The 67th Hunger Games Part Two
by shootingstarsandjaybirds
Summary: When twenty four innocent - and not so innocent - souls are thrown into an arena of death, who will win, sacrifice, and die for the sake of someone else's sick entertainment? I have the chapters reposted, but there's no need to review if you already have. Sorry it took me so long to get this back up!
1. Reapings 1 through 3

Adonia Huntington leaned against the matted wall of her parent's training center. The gymnasium stood on half an acre, filled with weaponry and identification challenges - outdoors stood acres of open land where she jogged and practiced. Her parents had hired multiple personal trainers to assist with the hand-to-hand combat necessary in the arena. Everything they did was for Adonia and the glory of their family. Adonia had been raised to believe the Hunger Games were just a set of games - a way of life that everybody participated in. The highest honor in the Huntington's minds was to have a child participate in these games. In the Hunger Games.

Today was May 8th - a day many families dreaded and feared. It was the day of the reaping, in which a girl and a boy, aged 12-18, would be randomly selected to participate in a fight to the death. For Adonia, she would be sparing a District 1 girl's life, by purposely taking her place. "Now, what a great honor it would be to have your face and name be known and seen by all of Panem, Adonia," her mother cooed. "Remember how you look forward to this. Remember how you've trained - four years!"

Adonia closed her eyes and remembered her mother's wild eyes as she coached Adonia to her place amongst the crowd. _Today was the day_, she told herself. She had prepared physically and mentally for the process about to occur. She would be admired by all! What a great honor she would bring to her family - she may not have been very close to her parents, but this would tie them together.

Her floor length dress shimmered around her tall slender frame. She took pride in her beautiful features, and with a figure to match, she outshone many.

"Katie Dao," the announcer called. A short, rounder child's face went white. Her eyes pleaded for an escape - she was obviously in no shape to participate at the moment.

Adonia stepped up, whispering in the guards' ears, and stepping beside them. Her hair was pinned up and streaked with gold, giving her a professional beautiful impression. "I volunteer," she said solemnly with a smile, staring into Katie's large blue eyes.

The girl scurried off the stage and into the arms of what seemed her grandparents.

The announcer smiled, and seated her. "Your name?"

"Adonia Huntington."

"Very well, your female tribute!" he yelled, and the crowd roared.

Earlier in the sun streaked morning of district one, Richie Oherra tended to his long blonde dreadlocks. His mother burst into the room, commanding him to pursue his morning exercises. Richie obeyed unwillingly, stomping into their large training center. His father assisted him with knowledge and useful skills he would need when he would volunteer. In truth, Richie wished he didn't even live where the Hunger Games took place - he wished he could live _anywhere_ but there.

His parents were retired genetic stylist's, tempering day to day with what nature intended to be left alone and uncontrollable. Richie himself was of African heritage - his blonde hair was an implanted gene at age one. As were his purple eyes, giving him an eerie presence. The job became too popular in the Capitol, running his parents out of the Capitol and into district one. He assumed that he, and his other six siblings, were all ways to earn their rights back into the throne.

He didn't know why - to him, their family sat on a throne of money. What more could anybody want then financial security?

He slipped on a tux and controlled his thoughts as he walked with the crowd of boys. He was at a 'perfect' age to compete. Sixteen, and he was towering over many of his neighbors.

Before the announcer could even reap a name, Richie strode to the front and allowed the poor soul's family and self to be spared the worry. "My name is Richie Oherra and I volunteer," he said confidently. Even as he hated the Games, anything was better than the constant training and stress of his home life. Maybe it would be better to die in there.

The announcer grinned, holding up Adonia and Richie's hand in a gesture of greatness. "Our two volunteers! Here are your District One tributes for the 67th Annual Hunger Games!" His chilling words echoed throughout the crowd.

*.*.*

Claire Kall found herself twiddling her thumbs and contemplating the decision. Her home life of recently had been dull, and she felt as if it needed a little spicing up. She did truly life a life of luxury - but it just…didn't suit her. She wanted adventure and adrenaline. What better way to achieve that than to volunteer for the Hunger Games? It would bring her family honor, and her name would be in the history books.

Claire's brother and father would be her motivation to return, she told herself. She had always felt guilty over her mom's death - she had died giving birth to Claire. But now Claire herself would sacrifice her life per say, as a way to honor her mother. Claire was sure she was going to win.

The reaping went as planned - the announcer was bubbly and bright alike Claire. He hoisted Claire on stage and asked her name, which she returned with a smile.

Her father and brother had their mouths hanging open - had Claire forgot to inform them of this? Whoops.

Sooner than later, the boy's name would be reaped. Ben Chapman's father urged him on, and the last thing his father saw of Ben that day was a nasty glare.

Ben and his father had a tightly strung, anticipation packed relationship going. His dad wanted his to participate - mostly for the selfish reason of bringing honor to the Chapman name, and Ben was tired of it. Ben never trained, never even stepped foot in a gym, and his father had pushed him to the point in which Ben volunteered _anyways_.

Ben needed to get away, and in a place like Panem, there was only one way to do so. "I volunteer!" he screeched in his father's ear.

"I volunteer," he said more serenely as a woman helped him on stage.

"Your name?" The announcer glanced at Ben.

"Ben Chapman," he smiled at Claire, who couldn't pry her eyes off of him.

*.*.*

Lettie Steam didn't try to blend in with the crowd, or try to hide behind someone bigger than her. She could any blow the world forced at her - and she didn't need help. When her name was reaped, she didn't need to force up the courage to stagger onto the stage - instead, she very proudly smiled, and hopped up the stairs by two, as if the Hunger Games were an honor. There was nothing she could do about them, so why fear or hate them? A waste of her time, really.

Being reaped - in her mind - wasn't deemed unfortunate or a disaster. Lettie would use this opportunity to _win._ She had a driving passion and determination for the games, seeing how they had permanently twisted her family life into a column of complication.

Her uncle had died in the 51st Hunger Games, changing every she knew. Their life's were littered with the permanent scars the Games held. Could her family really strive through another blow that was about to hit them? Lettie knew the inevitable answer, and what would happen if she didn't return.

She set her heart on winning, then and there. "To my uncle," she murmured, casually on stage.

As for the boys, Dray Rickman's life was about to be altered. Dray didn't particularily care about the Hunger Games until he was reaped. Then his mind started to wonder…it explored the hazards and hurts the Games would concoct.

He wasn't a strong player - in fact, all he could think about as he sauntered on stage was how his face was all over the country! He was instantly famous, and his self centered ego showed the Capitol what they needed to know. He was just like them.

Would that make his popular with them, or oppose them? Many of the Capitol's people couldn't imagine themselves as being _selfish!_ Of course not. Exactly what made them who they really were. Killers and haters - leaving twelve districts to starve and compete for their entertainment.

Dray couldn't see this - all he saw was his reflection in the camera.

*.*.*

**There will be four chapters on the reapings. 1-3... 4-6...7-9...10-12... Expect a new chapter every day, or two days. I'll try my hardest to get them done! Hope this was ok, please review, and pm me for anything I got wrong, mistakes, questions, comments, etc!**

**Thanks!**


	2. Reapings 4 Through 5

Aqua Young was instantly a superstar when she gracefully raised her dainty hand and danced onto stage. A waterfall of blonde cascaded down to her hips from her Barbie doll head, and her bright eyes were huge to the camera which screened to all of Panem.

Aqua was beaming like she'd done this before; in fact, she had trained herself to become the Hunger Game's most beloved contestant. Her brain was washed. Brainwashed, and she believed all her life's purpose held was the Games.

Her parents had paid an expensive genetic stylist to perfect Aqua to their standards - huge, almost unreal aqua eyes, a long mane of a beautiful shade of blonde hair. Then came her childhood years - no playing outside, no friends. She spent most of them switching off hours between the studies, proper etiquette and the capitol's formal attire, to her training. The only people she socialized with were actors hired by her parents - Aqua would have to be deemed perfect in order to earn sponsors and make it far. She barely spent any time outside of their house. As luxurious as a home could be, Aqua craved more. This indeed was her parents intention.

As soon as Aqua was released from her home, she'd want to only to stay out. She'd fight and act the way she was trained and become the champion! What great honor her parents would have.

Unlike Asher, her twin brother, Aqua was deemed perfect. This sparked some resentment in Asher, yet he knew about the Capitol's mind bending schemes. He knew it was his last chance, after 17 years, he might be able to see his sister. He hugged her goodbye - an air hug. The empty space between them felt like a mile apart.

"Aqua Young! Your District 4 female tribute!" the announcer ran his eyes over her flattering skin tight aqua dress.

She rolled her eyes ands laughed in a way that suggested flirtation. The male tribute was called, and they subsided to their goodbye bunkers, but Aqua didn't quit her charade. In fact, after all she'd been through, she herself wasn't an act anymore. She had become the Capitol's lapdog, sparking a raging wave of jealousy throughout the Districts.

*.*.*

Kat was nervously twisting her bikini top's strap between her two fingers, ringing out the remaining drops of water. She pulled a yellow sundress over the top and prepared for the date. May 8th, to be exact.

The reaping, commonly anticipated by the districts before hers, sparked a sense of dread in the 5th District.

Kat was worried beyond her 15 years. She truly didn't want to leave her family - aside from her father.

The chaos developed over the years as Kat's father grew lonelier and began clinically depressed. Though he sometimes didn't show it to the public, he sure had an odd method of '_affection_' at home. Even a sarcastic portray of affection didn't show what their household offered Kat and her older sister Savanna.

Their father beat them constantly, and more and more so in the recent years. Kat - Liz Sorrel - was called Kat because of the way her eyes resembled one of a cat's, and also because she could a very convincing purr. Jess loved Kat's purr, as she loved Kat.

Their abnormal relationship was the cause of many beatings in the house - her father didn't approve - and Kat learned that it was easier and better to be out of the house, swimming or with Jess.

On the other hand, her mother-daughter relationship was constantly blooming, and her relationship with Savanna was just as well. Savanna had dark makeup lined eyes, and never swam unlike Kat. Even as the two sisters were day and night, they both needed each other to survive.

When they called "Elizabeth Sorrel" from the stage, Kat quietly broke down and sobbed, then against the guard's will, hugged Savanna and her mom, swiftly her dad, and kissed Jess for the world and her father to see before continuing onto the platform.

The male's name was called, but as of the moment, she could care less.


	3. Repaings 6

Kanina Lombardi was laying at home on her couch, practicing meditation rituals her grandmother cherished. Grandma had long since perished, but Kanina was always one to honor her family's ways.

Her mother Sierra and father Ralf were talking the reaping over in their two roomed train car of a home. It had been built off the base of a train compartment, then expanded and sold to the Lombardi's. It was a peaceful place, and sometimes at night, Kanina swore she heard the whistling of a train traveling past her window. She hoped she'd never ride in one - particularly today.

The day passed as quick as a flower blooms in the midday sun. Quite an analogy, pertaining to the situation. The reapings were a dreaded, dark thing, though the sky suggested bright blue. The birds chirped in every direction and all traces of a cloud were whisked away as Kanina made to her age group in the town square.

Her face always had a look of joviality; her features rang in a natural, happy, upturned lip kind of way. Even as her name was called, and her face went blank, she looked quite content.

This obviously wouldn't win her district's support - but it certainly was enough for the Capitol to be persuaded into sponsor.

Kanina stepped onstage and the announcer, with her bright sleek hair, jerked her arm up and yelled her name to District 6. "Folks, Kanina Lombardi!"

The crowd roared in a sarcastic manner, shunning the capitol's barbaric ways. This district didn't approve of the cruelty.

At the moment, every teenage guy stood silently and peacefully, an odd sight for any other occasion.

Mixed in with the 16 year olds was an peculiar, intellectual young man by the name of Misson Asteredale.

Misson surveyed the crowd, a sense of nerve erupting in his chest against his will. His body might have been in the moment, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

He contemplated the inevitable occurrence of his name being drawn out of the glass, metal plated bowl. It was his destiny - maybe not to be reaped, but to know. Just knowing gifted him a sense of accomplishment.

Considering how far he was back from the platform, and his terrible eyesight, it was a wonder to most how he predicted the forecast.

The way the announcer shifted her weight and leaned in at a trajectory that suggested her arm was to be suspended near the right of the bowl. It would be considered impolite to walk the extra step, agonizing the capitol's people. Therefore she would only be able to reach to the side closest to her.

Previously, Misson ad calculated the age groups, his number of names in the bowl, and the timing of the names being mixed with the others. The bowl had been mixed approximately ten times over - figuring the force the slips of paper shook at, he knew a varying location to which his name rested.

Knowing. He knew where his name was stuffed in with the other pieces of paper - he knew which the angle the woman's body was poised and in so, knowing which slip of paper would be drawn.

It was inevitable. The horizon blooming upon him couldn't be tampered with now; it was fate. But why him? Why was he destined to die?

"Misson Asteredale," the announcer spoke softly. He was half way up the stairs before she was finished. A few members of the audience shot him puzzled looks but he didn't have the time or patience to explain to each individual his calculations.

The information would be invalid to any surveyors after his death, anyways.

*.*.*

**I've been so busy lately, sorry! Here's a chapter I finished, I hope to have 7&8 done by tomorrow, before Thanksgiving! (Happy Early Thanksgiving!)**


	4. Reapings 7 Through 9

Maya Kite's story was rarely heard of, yet there she stood, in the living breathing flesh, in the heart of District 7. Earlier in the day, she contemplated a decision, as she once did in district one. Did she truly want to volunteer for the Hunger Games? Surely she wouldn't be the most loved, the best or pitied competitor, the strongest or smartest. But in fact - she had one thing going for her; she definitely stuck out, which was at an advantage for the pre-games, but would turn for the worse once they were released into the arena.

Maya's family had moved into the seventh district for reasons that still had a given fuzzy edge. They had a great life of wealth in the first district - her father was a retired capitol official, and harvested all the money one can from a job like that. Their family had three generations worth of financial security - why throw it all away? Truly it wasn't gone, but there was no purpose of moving to the 7th district, in Maya's mind, when in the 1st all that cash meant popularity and good fortune.

There was an unexplored detail to their descent; Maya's brother Simuel - Sim - had been one of the rebellion leaders in the first district. Most likely her parents cared enough about his well being to move away - didn't they?

Every night when the Kite's returned home, they unlocked a door to a four story mansion. District 7 was notoriously the 'lumber' district, leaving wide open spaces of unused land; quite cheap, if you had the money.

Maya was so fed up with the rebellions, so tired of her other older sister - Pin - as well as her family, that it brought her to the point of contemplation. Volunteer for the Hunger Games?

When the time came, she threw up her hands and determined she had nothing to lose.

"I volunteer," she stepped out of the crowd. It was a strange silence; nobody volunteered to die in these parts.

*.*.*

Scarlette Cooper - with her Spanish speaking mother complaining about her swelling belly in the background - tried to ignore the noise. She pinned her hair in a bun and hunched over the sewing machine, stitching her dress for the reaping.

"Was I this big at this trimester with Nicholas?" Her mother asked her, and she shrugged.

"I was three, I don't remember. You could ask Dad when you see him." They tried to keep the conversation light, each knowing what the day had to offer. Nicholas was twelve now, so he and fifteen year old Scarlette were each in the reaping for District eight.

Their parents had dreaded this day, but the family's feeling was mutual - the Hunger Games were happening, and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

Nicholas was Scarlette's brother, always gazing up at her with a gleam in his eye. She was his role model in more ways than one. Scarlette had already received a job in a textile factory - though she dreaded the cold concrete floors and long hours, it benefited their family and brought them closer. Any scrap fabrics the company was going to throw out, she snatched up and brought home, often mending a pair of socks or some gloves. Once, on Nicholas's 12th birthday, Scarlette sewed him a cape and called him Super Man, as they had read in an ancient restored book.

He looked at her and smiled. "But you're my superhero!"

Scarlette tried to remember those happy times as the girls and guys filed to their designated locations.

With a flash of her hand, the announcer drew a name from the bowl and read it slowly. "Scarlette Cooper."

Her eyes widened, as she was in shock. She hugged her good friend, and then her little brother, making him promise to take care of the baby soon arrive. She tried to say her goodbyes, but the cameras were trained on her and she was ushered on stage. There would be time for final goodbyes later.

Scarlette Cooper swallowed hard, fighting the ever present tears. "Goodbye," she whispered. She didn't feel like a superhero.

As the hostess rambled on about something that had triggered a story-worth memory, Cormac Tann fiddled with his shirt.

Cormac's lean figure, nearly pushed over by the wind, stood amongst the 15 year olds.

He couldn't take his mind off Kirsten and Lannding - his orphaned niece and his little sister.

Ages ago, Cormac and Lannding's parents, along with Kirsten's parents - Cormac's Uncle and Aunt - died in a traumatic factory accident. Ever since, Cormac has struggled immensely, try to keep them alive. He takes every job opportunity he can get, with little help from the government. His neighbors sometimes offered them materials, but it did little to nothing to change the way they lived.

The three of them shared a little shack and one large bed - their house had been taken away by the bank, seeing as they couldn't pay their loans.

It was a hard, rough life upto the point in which Cormac ment Magenta, his girlfriend. Her family loaned them some money and promised to take care of Lannding and Kirsten if something were to happen to Cormac.

A favorite pastime time of his was holding hands - he had long fingers, wide palms and quick reflexes. Cormac mastered at the piano and could create rope out of virtually anything.

As his name was reaped, Kirsten and Lannding cried, attempting to stop him with little impact.

"Cormac Tann and Scarlette Cooper! Your district eight tributes!" Their faces were grim, and their postures were slumped. _Goodbye_, was unanimous.

*.*.*

Leah Hernandez was a very petite, 13 year old girl, with a waterfall of dark hair originating from her Latino heritage. Though she would appear quite innocent to the Capitol, inside burned a fiery column of rage. Her fury was never portrayed on the outside; it would make her a great competitor.

On the day of the Reaping, Leah was out planting seeds at dawn. The sun was bright - strange, how convenient it was for the capitol to force a sunny day when the plants needed watering! A good rain would have done them well. Leah aught to march right into the capitol and-

"Leah!" her sister Sarah and brother Chris called from the small porch of their wooden house.

Leah slammed her gloves into the solid, moisture-less earth. She knew what they were calling about - today was May 8th.

Leah threw on her old clothes - the Capitol would soon be kissing up to her butt if she got on that stage and they questioned her outfit choice.

She had that sense - a deep, powerful turning within her that signaled some change was about to occur. There wasn't going to be a family life for her soul; no friends, nothing. Only death. Only thirteen years she got to experience the gently _whoosh_ of a river flowing, or the pitter-patter of the rain on a metal roof. She wouldn't see the moon or the real sun if she didn't make it out. Nothing was real in the games. She got a good view of the sky - she looked up for inspiration. She found none.

"Leah Hernandez," the announcer slowly stated.

Leah's eyes widened, but there was no stopping this. She marched onto stage and shot anyone looking a nasty glare. "Let the Games begin," she sneered.


	5. Reapings 10 Through 11

**I really shouldn't say sorry, because sorry implies it wont happen again. But sorry anyways, this is a week later than I promised I'd publish it. Sorry anyways…Because I wanted to get out there what I had. I'd use the "busy" excuse, but that's too cliché. My head got bitten off by a dinosaur, quite unfortunate actually. It's Sissy and Molly. Read, review, Pm for mistakes or comments or whatever. Thanks!**

Sissy Mallat lie in bead, casually running her hand over her stomach; she was six months pregnant at age eighteen, with her husband Harrison. In fact, this was their second child - she'd been pregnant at age sixteen before - and for a reason. If the consequences of the reapings proved themselves as bad as could be, meaning Sissy or Harrison were reaped, they still wanted a future together.

It was a victorious day when Harrison turned nineteen - that same year Lexi was born. It was an amazing feeling for Sissy, knowing that Harrison would never have to experience the craze of the games. He would always be able to provide for their daughter.

The family's plan was for three children at an early age - not many couples lived long enough to see the light of their grandchildren, as they planned to do so.

Sissy was pregnant with her second - they hoped for a child as wonderful as Lexi. Besides, this was Sissy's last reaping. If she made it through this, the wonders would start to unfold. But if she didn't…the stressful days and nights would start to unveil in Harrison's presence.

Sissy had to make it back. The thought of never seeing her toddling little girl again was too overwhelming. The way Lexi's blonde head was too big for her body… somehow the miracle found a way to defy gravity and move like so. Sissy's children were inevitably changing her, and she couldn't wait for the birth of her second child.

The afternoon of the reaping, Lexi and Harrison stood on the sideline. "Your district 10 female tribute: Sissy Mallat!" a loud voice echoed through the chambers of Sissy's mind. Strange, she thought the man had spoken the English dialect, moving his lips in a manner that projected "Sissy". It was weird because every was staring at her. They had probably just heard the announcer wrong, because he couldn't…of …said… Sissy Mallat. That possibility was slim, because the Capitol was full of nice people, and wouldn't remove Sissy from her family. Her mind was spinning and trying to grasp the concept of inevitability.

Sissy sauntered onto stage, the crowd gasping at the sight of her stomach. The announcer was baffled, obviously not expecting an outcome that possessed any intensity or interest.

Sissy mouthed "I love you," to Harrison. Their years of planning had surely paid off. They had brought near two lives into this world that would grow up to hate the games. Or maybe one. Once the capitol declared her pregnancy a fraud.

No worries. It was all in the majesty of the Games. Wasn't it?

*.*.*

Molly James stumbled down a windy winding shortcut through the back alleys of district 11. Her brown hair swept to mid-back, and her brown eyes squinted against the moving air. Her frame was small, as she appeared much like a twig; the wind almost blew her over as she made her way to the reapings. Molly was thin and lean, with a little muscle gained from swimming one afternoon a week.

In fact, the only reason she went back to that littered pond and lost those important calories - the ones she sometimes survived days on - was to meet up with Ethan, her sixteen year old best friend, and boyfriend. She met him there, at a mere age six. Shortly after, her parents passed away, and she was left in the caring hands of Ethan.

Six years later, he was the only reason she had survived.

Molly met him at the end of the passage. What was it that she saw in him? He was grown up and mature, being four years older than her, and a lot different. Yet, they got along like two moving parts in an engine - they both relied on each other to move. Or in their case, move on; Live. Sometimes their relationship meant snuggling late nights in the little shack Molly inhabited alongside the butchers shop on the road; sometimes it meant moonlit walks when the weather permitted, hand holding, and serenity.

When her name was called by the fidgeting name-picker, Ethan ran up and did something he'd wanted to do for a long time. He reached for her face and kissed her on the cheek. She was more of a sister to him; the crowd "Awwed," and Mollie suspected the sponsors were already lining up.

They were both inevitably crying, but Molly tried to sustain some self control. She hoisted herself up the stairs, and trembled before Panem.

"Molly James!" A hand was held high in the sky.

_Molly James_…a sulking guy walked away from the scene of despair.

**Thanks for being patient!**


	6. Reapings 11 Through 12

**I'm going to - or going to try my very hardest to publish - one or two chapters every weekend! Sorry for the wait!**

The moment the sun rose, Blake Christopher received a feeling of unease. He was fourteen as of a few months ago; he was well enough to realize what this day had in store. His father had fought in the 51st Hunger Games. In fact, his father had won.

Wouldn't it be just _so_ convenient that a victor's child's name would be reaped? The Capitol would surely eat the drama up on a nice little silver platter. From the moment his eyes opened, to the moment his name was called, he knew what the day's events had in store.

What Blake hadn't seen coming was the twisted way Molly James' name had been called before her. Blake had secretly taken a liking to Molly, but she knew nothing. The way he glanced at her on the streets as she passed, or waved sarcastically as a way of playing hard to get, probably didn't inform her his true feelings. He assumed she didn't have the mind to look, either.

His crush of four years had grown out of it's childish fantasies and into the hurt and aching in his teenage chest. He was too afraid to approach her, too afraid to even look at her and for one reason; Ethan.

Blake had always feared Ethan; for one he was bigger and stronger than Blake, and two, because Ethan had Molly wrapped around his little finger. He had tricked her into thinking that he was all she lived for. Instead, Molly was living _because_ of him. Surely Molly felt some compassion for him, but he wasn't giving her the opportunity to simply open her eyes and decide whether she truly loved him - or whether she had no choice but to.

Blake's name was called, but his death was the last thing on his mind. Instead, his face showed great concern for the girl he truly cared about. No worries…they were only lined up to die.

*.*.*

Gretelda Adams was standing in a circle with a group of her friends as they balanced an old hacky-sack between limbs. When it came to her, she twisted around, attempting in an odd maneuver to hit the toy up with her ankle, but instead collapsed in a heap on the ground. Her friends just laughed at their lifelong pal, who had always been a klutz.

The witty blonde sneered in a playful way as Gretelda tried to defend her clumsiness, insisting that she meant to do that in order to gain the right trajectory for her ankle to come in contact with the hacky-sack. When, in truth, she did have to defend every unplanned aspect of her life, and half the time she knew little or nothing about what she was talking about.

Zoe laughed. "Our little Grace," she flipped her blonde hair and laughed, suggesting Gretelda be called Grace as a witty oxymoron.

After her morning in the deserted school yard, Gretelda returned home to find her baby sister Olive - of a mere four years old - playing on the ground with a miniature tea cup.

Gretelda - often referred to as Gretta - scooped Olive up in her arms and kissed her on the forehead. She was dressing for the reapings - if something unplanned and horrible occurred in that instance, Gretta wanted Olive to have a good impression of her sister. In the years to come, Gretta's absence would either be explained as "An extended trip", _or_ their family would soon be living in a makeshift mansion.

Whatever the consequence, Gretta was ready.

Inevitably, her name was reaped in the heat of the afternoon sun. A bead of sweat trickled down her back, but not another significant suggestion that Gretta was of any means nervous was prominent. She was ready for this. For her friends and family, for the rest of her life, she needed to make it out alive.


	7. PreGames 1

Like tradition goes, every tribute had the opportunity to talk to their loved ones before they made their way to certain death, or happened on a chance to draw a lucky straw.

The simple "I love you's," were the most common phrase exchanged. The time came and the twenty four contestants were herded onto trains and the hustle and bustle of the pre-games began. The expensive room the tributes made their goodbyes in sat alone, with the carpets wet from tears and the air still lingering with tension.

The train was horrible, although most everyone managed. If one couldn't survive the simplest of challenges, the Games to come would surely prove to be a more powerful source of dread and the participator wouldn't be having such a swell time. If one was worried now, they might need a hug and kiss goodnight. The reassurance that everything was alright was irrelevant to the listener. They'd had enough of the lies, enough of the make believe the world had become.

Deep reflection occurred on many nights - apparently, society preferred this make believe fantasy world over what was the truth. But when the two merged, the change was more powerful than the blast of a supernova star, mending atoms into one. The change created a deep swelling emotion - a different, cruel, demon's way of thinking. When the worlds collided, you got the Hunger Games.

*.*.*

Once each contestant was off the train, each were assigned a separate room and a mentor. For the next two days, they would train in utter silence in a room filled with weaponry, knowledge resources, and the screaming silence of being alone.

Afterwards, the tributes were released with one another. They had the chance to interact, and chat it up all their little hearts desired. Here lie the Pre-Games. Drama at the top of it's class.

*.*.*

Misson Asteradale fumbled with his glasses, then resorted to tucking them away in his pocket. He repetitively glanced up at the female contestants - not because he was a creep, let his good nature forbid. But because he was surveying the competition, and pondering alliances. Misson was unrealistically smart, his intelligence ranged from a structured family life and the simple term of curiosity. His mentor was truly believed in his mental capability. "It is your _mission_," the man snorted on a previous occasion. After seeing how Misson reacted, the mentor became serious. "It's your responsibility to use the skills your naturally equipped with. I mean, you _need_ to have your head in the game if you want to stand a chance. There are people who train for this - people who _live_ for this. Live and die," he muttered. "Point across, search for any alliances; don't judge by strength, a true judge is by character."

Misson scratched his head and combed his fingers through the knots in his thick brown hair. He wasn't capable of using weapons - he thought his place on this earth was to inspire; he did it through his writing. Not meeting the physical standards for the Hunger Games - he'd be screwed if he didn't act fast. If he didn't have a solid, mental plan. And that involved alliances.

He thought about the contestants as he wondered through the plant life tutorial. Careers were definitely out of the option - it was merely unheard of that a _District 6_ would associate with a 1, 2, or 4. Yet again, the association with the capitol's lap dogs would certainly earn him sponsors.

He shook his head again; anyone watching would probably assume he had some weird case of Tourette's.

Negatively, the career's had always been known to be dangerous. Particularly in the field of weapons, where Misson possessed no experience. He focused the field on girls, mainly because they'd be more likely to cooperate. He'd attempted to think his plan through as solidly as manageable.

To his left, Lettie Steam stood contently isolated from her opponents, leaning against the outermost wall of concrete. Her stance suggested a tone of bitterness; all she wanted was some alone time to think.

Misson realized from her poise what she intended - but they were all about to be herded into an arena of death. There really wasn't any time to spare.

He walked up quietly with grace. "Misson, district 6," he held out his hand.

She glanced up, contemplating, and glanced around. "Lettie," she scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. Did her mentor mention anything about talking to the other tributes? Whatever the answer, she didn't care. "Look, Misson. Let's get something straight. If you want to talk to me, fine. Whatever you want, I'll listen. Just realize your messing with the wrong girl," she threatened coldly. Whatever mind game the brainiac was trying to pull, she wasn't interested. She had come here for one reason - besides her 'eternal commitment to the Capitol' - and that was to make her uncle proud. And _nobody_ was going to stand in her damn way.

He lowered his voice. "You…seem…quite determined?" stumbling for a convincing statement.

"No shit Sherlock."

"Why? Besides the obvious reasons?"

"My uncle _died_ in there. I don't plan on messing around."

"Listen. To. Me. I _know_ what's going to happen in there. We could help each other. I may not be completely in shape-"

"True."

"I have the mental capability to perform astounding-"

"Got it, your smart," she retorted. "What do you want from me?" she scratched at her nails. She honestly had better things to do than let him babble on about himself.

Misson calmed himself down. He tilted Lettie's chin up with his pointer finger so they were staring into the deep irises of one another.

"With my brains, and your will-power, we would make a great alliance," he stated. From the minimal information he knew about any of the tributes, knowing that fact would get him far.

"I'm not exactly up for that sort of thing," she shrugged, tucking her hair back into a bright blue Capitol bandanna.

"Alliances?" Misson questioned.

Lettie cut the casual care-free charade. She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him close. "Look, alright. 23 of us will die in the end of this battle. I'm _not_ going to be one of them. And I don't believe in killing friends."

"Then don't think of me as a friend," he suggested. "Think of me as a way of getting closer to becoming the 67th Hunger Games _champion_."

Lettie slightly raised an eyebrow, thinking. She didn't know how he got to her like that. She'd wanted to do this alone, in fear of having to kill somebody she cared about. But if Misson was for real - by the looks of it, this offer seemed sincere - then she was willing to accept. Maybe he liked her, and maybe he was just trying to help her out because she thought he knew about her uncle.

Of course, neither of these options were true. Misson was only using this as a chance to help himself, but she didn't need to know that.

There was a mutual nod, and not another word spoken as Misson returned to plants, and Lettie dispersed to tend to her bandanna.

*.*.*

Meanwhile, Blake Christopher had been instructed not to show the other tributes what he could do with a scythe. Instead he walked around straight up to Lettie. He wanted to know the contestants from the inside out.

"Lettie, right?" he asked casually.

She looked at him. Honestly, she didn't know what his skills were, and ruled out making any alliances with him then and there. The last thing she needed was someone else to worry about.

"I'm Blake."

"That's good for you," she walked in the opposite direction, but he followed.

"I couldn't help but overhear…the first part of your conversation with Misson."

"What, so you were eavesdropping?" She turned to him, agitated.

Lettie would keep a close eye on him. He was only 14, and obviously stealthy enough to drop in on personal conversations. Maybe he was the stalk you silently and kill you in your sleep type.

"I heard you say your uncle participated in the games?"

"That's none of your damn business, so leave me alone," she glared at him with a sneer.

"Well, my dad competed in the games as well!" he called to her, not thinking. Acting without the proper contemplation.

She turned on her heels; this sparked her oh-so casual interest. "_Which_ games?" She thought back to who won the 51st games. The one's her uncle had _died _in. She swore, if he said 51. The times her uncle were in the were hard on her family and left a long, lasting impression of sorrow and sadness. It definitely wasn't something she was ever going to forget, or willing to. She had come here to honor their family's name, even seeing as she was reaped.

There lie a strong reason beneath Lettie's heart, and there also, was a will to live on.

Blake smiled ever so slightly. He never assumed her uncle and his dad would ever be in the same games. For, her uncle had the last name of Field. Roy Field, because he was on Lettie's mother's side, and Blake had no way of knowing that. He had no way of knowing that Lettie despised Tate Smyth, Blake's father. Because Blake had inherited his mother's maiden name. He had no way of knowing what he'd just walked into with a stride. "The fifty first," he shrugged. "My father's name is Tate Smyth."

Lettie's eyes widened as her face flushed with a bright crimson. Her breathing was sharp and her jaw was clenched. Her hands formed snow white fists from the pressure she applied. But Blake was oblivious to the situation, and assumed Lettie walked away as a gesture of boredom. He assumed her sneer was one of boredom. But he should of known better - known how she'd forever despise the way Blake's lips curled around the simple word of _is._

*.*.*

Molly James was fiddling with a bamboo shoot at a station she excelled at. She blew into the instrument, shooting a faux poisoned dart directly into the heart of a dummy. It stuck in it's chest. She was a perfect aim.

Across the way, attempting to stick a dagger in a stuffed dummy was Leah Hernandez. She was the smallest figure in the room - being a mere 13 - but her Hispanic heritage gave a distinct character. Her hair swooped to her elbows like a straight waterfall of black. For being so young, she may have had more mental capability than many in the vast room.

She could think on the spot, easily, and she knew this is what would last her through the blood bath. Alliances were more of a long term commitment - not quite her area of expertise, yet she was open to them. Someone she was considering was Mollie James, a twelve year old alike Leah, who was of 13 years.

As nonchalantly as she could manage, she scuffed her shoes across the area and approached Molly.

Leah got her talking, and they soon were discussing strategies in hushed tones. Their whispers didn't travel across the gym, so their conversation was as secluded as they were.

The words _alliance_ and _friendship_ rang in each of their ears and it was decided. They obviously didn't need to keep it quiet, seeing as they weren't the strongest or the smartest people in the room. They were two small, frail little girls about to fight to the death, and what was going to last them through was friendship. Maybe it would tug on the strings of the Capitol's heart - maybe it would get them ignored and sponsor-less. It didn't matter at the direct moment. They agreed at the end of their little talk that this secret would be kept from the rest of the tributes. Their 'friendship' approach was a new strategic move and it was distinctly theirs to keep.

Leah was the kind of person to hold grudges - after the alliance with Molly, she looked into the crowd and tried to find flaws with every person there. Liz, who everyone called Kat, had eyes like an actual cat's and always wore a swimsuit, which disgusted Leah. Scarlette Cooper was of Spanish heritage as was Leah, but Leah thought she, herself, was prettier. She saw Sissy, with her round stomach and thought of her as a little slut - she couldn't of have been more than fifteen years old!

*.*.*

In truth, Sissy was pregnant with her second child for a reason. She was married at home to her wonderful husband Harrison, and their bouncing little girl Lexi. Lexi's head was too big for her tiny body, and as she waddled around she tipped over often. She was just learning to walk, that little angel. Sissy and Harrison had decided to have a second child in case of this - it was Sissy's last year in the reaping. If she was to get reaped, their family's plans would be shattered. They had planned on three children, wanting to raise them to oppose the Capitol. Their family lived in district ten - they had no reason to go with the Capitol's flow, anyway.

Sadly, the pregnancy's timing was quite unfortunate. Sissy was shocked and cried as she took the place as district ten's female tribute. She kissed Harrison goodbye, and told him she loved him. "I think we both know what's going to happen in there," her hand shook as she took his. "They'll send our baby back to you. Tell Lexi I loved her."

Those were her last haunting words to him as he excused himself from the room. He would have to find a way to watch his wife die - or live - without Lexi there to accompany him. He would always have an empty space in his heart for Sissy if she failed to make it out alive.

*.*.*

Cormac Tann was busy practicing his knot tying skills at the rope and knot station. A woman with spiky green hair and a bright blue neck was showing him the proper way.

His love of music - especially on the piano - had earned him the label of "piano hands". He didn't mind, considering his hands were long and nimble. Cormac's rope making skills outshone any other of his talents, using his 'special' hands to craft the long white thread. He planned to use the skill to impress the judges - but as of now, he simply practiced tying knots, trying not to draw too much attention.

At home, he missed his little sisters - they felt like sisters in a way, even if they weren't technically. In fact, they somewhat felt like his children. He smiled for the first time in a week, thinking of Lannding and Kiersten being his children. When he was much younger, he never would have expected himself to be a single father of two. He smirked again, and glanced up to see if anyone was watching his strange play of facial emotions.

Across the way was Sissy Mallat, who blushed and looked down when Cormac's eyes fluttered up and met her gaze. Shyly and cautiously, she approached.

"What were you smiling about?" she asked. "Wait," she laughed, "That sounded a little creepy. . . I'm Sissy, by the way," she introduced herself.

Cormac contemplated everything he'd been taught to. By talking to her and getting to know her, he might form an alliance. Is that what he wanted? Well, he surely didn't want to travel into the arena _alone_. But was flying solo better than being in an alliance with someone horrible and not cooperative? Was Sissy even going to be a manageable partner? _Wait,_ Cormac stopped himself. _She just wants to talk. You're going to talk to everybody too. Right? Right? Get to know the crowd. Ok, I can do this with a poker face_, he decided. Whatever the outcome, he'd either know her for better or worse.

"Hi," they shook hands like casual business partners. "I'm-"

"Cormac, I know. Oh, sorry," she smiled awkwardly. "I guess I kind of knew your name already."

He noticed how nice she was right away, and how she tucked her waist long, wavy black hair behind her ear was cute in a way. Cormac definitely wasn't even considering a relationship. But it was cute - she was cute.

"Yeah," he replied. His voice sounded drab and uninteresting. Like their exchange of names didn't interest him and he wanted to get back to thinking about his sad home life.

Sissy was used to people with bored tones and accusatory manners with her. Her acts of kindness weren't _acts_. They were real and sincere.

And she planned to break the ice, because under the skin of every competitor here was a real person. And under her skin was two.

"What were you thinking about before?" she asked. Sissy knew people better than anything else. She had time to think during the days when Harrison worked and she was on a short maternity leave. She thought about emotions and the ways people portrayed what they were really thinking. It was often misunderstood and the uninterested observer would be fooled. Besides, she wanted to know what made his smile in a place like this; one of disparity and a black hole of empty dreams.

*.*.*

The day continued slowly with an anticipatory feel to the air. The emotions exchanged between tributes were an example of a bored class of students, wanting to be polite but not wanting to draw attention.

By being polite, at least they warned off any enemies. But being too nice could result in your game plan being exposed for the world to observe. It was a risky game, and like a serious gambler, you needed a poker face.

The entire concept of the games was an illusion. Humanity could never be quelled no matter how hard society planned to push mankind. To the brink or not, their expectation was that it would snap. Just like a twig on the top of the tallest oak tree known to survive, the snap of a quite insignificant measure hinted a bigger more likely occurrence. The probability that humans in general would subside in their course would be absurd. Nature planned everything for us all. But will power can overtake the natural course and set everything out of balance - what has society made the world? The way the Games told their story, the government was to blame.

The 67th Hunger Games? A sad example at how our planet's natural functions needed to be more aggressive. Humankind could cease to exist - because some lunatic craved a sense of power. That power would simply be diminished when man disappeared. Then the sad ruler would sit upon his gold throne and wonder what he ever wanted, while the answer all along was to figure out his course. His actions for too sinful to disregarded. Fate had it coming for him. He just needed to learn to wait. Nature would always keep him waiting.

**I know all the tributes haven't been included. But every day before the games is one of anticipation. And I'm a strong believer of which anticipation can sometimes be greater than the actual occurrence itself! So the days will be featured, every character will be featured. Thanks for reading, review at will, and please. Please. Constructive criticism! Thanks!**


	8. PreGames 2

**Just a quick little update. Review, and leave constructive criticism please!**

The next day, the tributes trained as planned. What the Game-makers failed to realize was that the structure of the games themselves was being concocted before they even began. The rise and fall of the hyped emotions of the tributes cleared a distinct path - the makers were too preoccupied worrying about unimportant business, therefore not noticing what rightfully should have been. It was suggested by a meek, timid young man in his early twenties that each tribute train individually. But alas, he possessed no power and his ideas were disregarded. Point across, the tributes continued clearing a path, even as the path wasn't most prominent at the time.

*.*.*

Blake was beginning to become paranoid at Lettie, but couldn't quite direct his train of thought at her. Mollie was shining a dart at the same location she'd stood yesterday, as the day before.

His mind raced with options and questions, motives and concerns. He knew one way or another he wanted to talk to Mollie - at the very least - or maybe get into a conversation that held some meaning. If they all were to die, she should at least know how he felt. And besides, all the way over here, Blake could piss Ethan off with ease - and cease to face the fear of getting beaten from Mollie's boyfriend. A beating wasn't what had him worried anymore. Certain death - a little bit.

He drew in a breath, but couldn't bring himself to it. He waited another ten minutes, glancing around the vast, dark gym.

Then, ever to slightly, he shuffled his feet across the floor, inches at a time. Although Blake had known Mollie for years, she probably didn't know him. He was always afraid to talk to her, always nervous and too much of a coward. As he maneuvered through the equipment, his heart burst into flames. It skipped a beat, and made up for it in the next passing seconds. Racing, soaring. A rush of adrenaline like a stream of oil catching fire; his heart burst into flames.

He'd waited so long for this moment - he'd always wanted to get up the courage to talk to her. And what better moment. Actually, there weren't any more moments - none to spare.

He stuttered her name like it was his last word. Blake spoke with longing, but was Mollie really smart enough to notice?

"Mollie?"

She cocked her head to the side, brushing the hair out of her face. "Blake, right?"

He nodded and swallowed.

"What's…up?"

"Hey…" he managed

"Stop trying to waste my time," she declared like she was onto him for something.

"I…like…you," he quietly spewed a drop of spit onto the cement. This had gone a lot smoother in his head. But also in his head, he'd had enough time. Now he was out and all he had left were actions and words and hopefully the remainder of the world could understand. Maybe they would. Maybe she would.

"Excuse me?" she asked in a semi-awkward turn, facing him as well as her poison darts. Obviously they were only filled with food coloring.

"I like you," Blake spoke clearer, gathering his thoughts. Although he looked like a fool standing in front of her. Maybe she wasn't up for this sort of drama. Blake's world was a deep pool of maybe's - tidal waves thrashing against the walls and persuading them to collapse.

Mollie didn't know what to say. She wasn't blushing - it didn't appear as she even cared. She wasn't going to remember his words, his face. She recognized he was from her district, but left it at that. Unless he proved to be a serious competitor, his actions were mute.

Her lack of caring response was what Blake dreaded the most and he contemplated turning away.

Mollie wasn't the type to not care and she hated hurting feelings. Inside, her heart still clung to a sense of childhood innocence. She cringed. "Wait," she sighed inaudibly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I said."

She clenched a small fist. This was getting nowhere.

"I mean that I…really, really like you."

"Ok. Um."

"Since I was a little kid."

A tiny, forced smile did nothing to brighten the awkward mood. Neither really knew how to act.

As most semi-mature relationships went, when someone thought someone else liked them, the first tended to like them back. It was the general way the human brain worked. The first person started to notice the second, and soon began to point out their good features. The process soon continued. It was generally the way relationships worked out.*

It was the way Blake hoped that Mollie would soon like him back. Alas, the process took time. And there was none.

For Mollie, all of this was just awkward. "I'm sorry Blake, I have a boyfriend. I think it's really sweet that you like me though," she smiled a little more sincerely, but it faded.

"You mean Ethan?"

"Yes…" she didn't know whether to be creeped out or flattered. She supposed she and Ethan were inseparable at the least. Therefore, Blake had probably seen them together more than once.

Blake couldn't help himself. "He's not your _boyfriend!_ You don't even _like_ him! The only reason that you two are together are because he rescued you from poverty or something! That _doesn't _mean that you love him!"

"I owe him my life," she squeaked.

"You don't love him! That's not love! Your forcing yourself into this twisted relationship, it's just plain stupid!"

"Love isn't stupid," she whispered through glassy eyes.

"You don't love him!" he bellowed, loud enough for the guards to hear. One of them advanced forward and took him arm.

As they dragged him away in fury, he noticed Mollie had dropped the dart, whereas it shattered to the floor. A tear streaked down her face. What had he done?

*.*.*

This had been Kanina's second day in training. She'd barely done a thing, just thrown a few knives and practiced with a bow and arrow. She'd really wanted instruction, but didn't know where to turn. There were supposed to be instructors at every station guiding the tributes and showing them the proper way. But the bow and arrow station remained vacant.

Kanina supposed it'd be wise to find somebody. Maybe they'd forgotten, or you just needed to ask. But Kanina had always had trouble asking for help.

She pondered what strategy she wanted to use in the games. Maybe she'd run for it. Maybe she'd join the careers. But the latter seemed unrealistic and Kanina's future was vague. What she truly wanted was an alliance - someone to struggle through the hardships with, though it didn't seem likely at this point.

She beckoned with her eyes to everyone who passed. The stress was getting to her head. She would settle for anyone.

A particular girl with cat shaped eyes and straight hair in a flawless tight bun seemed to sense Kanina's desperation.

She flowed over to wear Kanina was hunched in a chair. She looked up at the girl.

"I'm Elizabeth. But no-one calls me that. They call me Liz. Well, actually, everyone calls me Kat," she'd obviously told this story before.

"I'm Kanina."

"You look kind of lost over here," she suggested lightly.

Kanina murmured something.

Kat crouched down in a swift motion. "Would you want to be in an alliance with me?"

Kanina looked up, a light in her eyes. "Yes," she nodded, trying to hide the desperation.

"You have to swear on your family's life and yours that you'll honor it. If we're the last one's, we split up. We never turn on each other."

"Ok, I swear," Kanina nodded. "Who is this 'we', just us?"

Kat thought for a moment. "I say we ask Scarlette, too. The bigger the numbers, the more likely we'll make it."

"Why Scarlette?"

"I've been thinking about it. None of us are very powerful - alone. You agree."

Kanina looked around, and subtly gestured to Gretelda. "What about her," they spoke silently. "I've seen her. She looks nice."

Kat shook her head. "I saw her with the instructor earlier. She knocked him out."

"With what?"

"Hand to hand combat."

"Well hey, if this is going to work, we need all the power we can get, right? And it can't hurt asking her. So why not?" Kanina insisted.

"We can't let her know our plans. What if she says no?"

"I don't want anyone to be alone in the arena. Not like I thought I was going to be."

Kat sighed and rolled her eyes. "Ask her. If this jeopardizes anything, she dies first, got it?"

Kanina sneered. "Go ask whoever. Scarlette, Maya. What about that Aqua girl?"

"Are you crazy, she's a total career!"

"What about guys? Lets pick the cutest ones," Kanina teased.

Kat crossed her arms and tried to smile. She wanted to hide. "Go ask Gretelda."

Kanina did as instructed.


	9. PreGames 3

**I am so extremely sorry for the wait. Immensely completely sorry. Trust that I've done everything I could have to ensure I got this done. Been going through a lot. I shortened the pre-games into one document, and this my friends, is the last ones! I wanted to make the games longer, because they're a little more fun to read. Beside the point. Thanks for holding out for this! Appreciate the comments and messages and thanks for the support. Next update is the 67****th**** Hunger Games! (Trying to make the chapters longer and more detailed) Hope you like it! **

It had been another long week of anticipation for each of the training tributes. Not much had been said. The mentors had really started giving instruction to ensure nobody did what they weren't told. Not like anybody listened.

After the sun had set in the early evening, the tributes were ushered to a vast open room. The space was filled with a dozen long tables and multiple self serve food displays; the cafeteria of perfection for any of the less fortunate districts. As for the upper and career districts - it was a mild showing; tonight's dinner was one that lacked significance in the game-makers perspective.

The tributes had been instructed to wear something casual - obviously that wasn't what Aqua was planning. Or her intentions.

Strutting into the room before anyone else, in quite a display of confidence, was a thin and curvy, petite young teen in a stunning blue trail of fabric. It clung to her hips as she took long steps in huge bright stiletto heals. Her instructor had really gone all out - the dress was from some fancy designer that had a fetish for the color aqua, and her blonde hair was simple yet elegant. It flowed off her shoulders as she walked, leaving the scent of lavender behind her.

She sat down at a table, crossing her legs under the bench and draping the dress around her legs. Like a supermodel, she looked up and smiled at the guys staggering and stumbling to get through the doorway.

Claire walked in after a few of the guys. She practically gagged at the girl in the dress and the fact that the boys would drool over someone like her! Claire was in low rise sweats and a belly revealing tank from the bottom of her suitcase. She thought it was cute enough to impress, but not if she was going to be compared to people as shallow as Aqua. Pretty, but full of hot air. Claire despised her.

She got some food, far across the way from Aqua. The last thing she needed right now was to put up with people like that.

Ben stood, gaping at Aqua along with Dray. Neither wanted to lose their pride and give into the temptation…but wow. Her.

Ben punched Dray's arm. "Come on man, we can't. This is totally her plan. We need to focus."

Dray rolled him eyes. "What's life without a little fun?"

Ben pulled him to another table and they sat as Dray told a dirty joke. The two had become closer as they trained in swords and hammers, and bonded like any guys could. Unlike girls, guys can put appearance past and personality aside and simply lash out a full on friendship when the going gets rough.

They chatted at their table alone, downing some mashed potatoes and avoiding an heavy subjects. The two put together were the kind of backwards hat, sagging pants kind of guy gang you saw downtown, personality wise. But they were in the Capitol, and there, anything goes.

Adonia took a stride into the room in a flowing cotton white dress that ended above her ankles. She was in nothing but her tattooed bare feet and the v-necked thin strapped garment.

Dray and Ben watched with approving eyes. "Hell, she's something," Dray laughed and winked at his companion.

She turned an ear in his direction subtly.

"Talk to her," Ben suggested.

"What district is she?" he thought aloud.

"If she wants to make it anywhere in the big bad games, she better take one of our arms and hold on for dear life," Ben sneered. "She needs a big guy to protect her."

Dray was ignoring Ben now as he got up and offered to take her tray; she agreed. "I'm Dray."

"That's nice," her voice was like music to his ears.

Ben rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the flirtatious way they talked to each other. He had his eye on the girl from his district. He'd seen her around before. Claire.

Claire was chatting with Richie in line for the food, about this and that. About the colors of the capitol and nothing important. They both realized one another were careers. And the careers always stuck together.

"Yeah," she agreed to whatever he said. They both pick up some food and turned to the maze of tables.

Claire jumped and almost dropped her tray when Ben appeared behind her.

He laughed. "Am I that good looking I'm scary?"

"Save the pick up lines for someone else," she sneered at him with a smile.

"Come on. Remember me? Eighth grade social studies?"

"How could I forget?" she laughed, remembering his outrageous acts to impress the girls.

He led her to his table, patting the seat next to him. "My lady," he grinned.

She sat between Ben and Richie, striking up a yet another pointless conversation.

Kat and Kanina chose a table together, beckoning for Scarlette to join them.

As she sat, she asked "You two were serious…about this?"

Kat nodded as she took on the role of the ring leader. "I figured if the careers can do it, then so can we. And we'll be stronger in numbers."

Scarlette agreed as she added "The careers are strong and they've trained for this," in a Spanish accent. "Muerte!" She shouted in a whisper. The group realized they were all conversing in stern whispers. "You have rightness. We should stick together."

"The games have like, never seen a group of girls together before. It's a good alliance," Kanina brushed the sun red hair out of her face and sat back in her chair.

Kat surveyed the room. "Not to rush this all too quick, but we will need more support if we want to beat the Careers. Who else can we ask?"

"Um hello. I already talked to Gretelda," Kanina waved a hand in front of Kat.

"Go get her."

Kanina rolled her eyes and got up off the bench. She had a few appreciating eyes look her up and down - Kanina appeared to be happy with it. It was like her face was stuck in a happy essence, when in truth, the guys disgusted her. Maybe it was a bad day to be wearing skinny jeans and a strapless yellow shirt. It used to be her favorite sundress, but it'd gotten caught in one of the electric doors and tore at the end. Nonetheless, she still wore it with pride. Trend setter or not, she still wore it.

Her days under the sun were long gone, but she wanted to live out the memories forever.

"Gretelda," Kanina stated.

She turned with her food. "Where to?"

Kanina led her to the table and they talked about the alliance again. Kat decided four was enough. If they stumbled upon anyone else before the games, it would be friendship. And after, it would mean death.

Misson had a scratched and beaten up composition notebook at his fingertips. The words flowed naturally from his mind to his hand to the pen to the paper. This was the fourth notebook he'd brought with him from his stash under his bed at home. They weren't cheap. Especially the antique ones that were once mass produced - not many survived to this day. He had around twenty. He brought eight.

Misson's writing was a way for him to vent. Being naturally quiet, he was quite an observer, noting the world around his and translating everything into words, analyzing and initiating a solution to any problems that occurred.

Lettie sat across from him. "I'm worried," she wasn't eating. She was chewing gum and tapping her fingers across the table. Maybe the untrained eye would call her a slacker. But Misson saw something in her. Something he'd never seen before. Courage, desire. He saw perseverance at its highest, and he wanted a part of that.

He had already finished a balanced dinner. Better to be in shape then to be overweight, he'd discovered. Surely the extra overweight pounds would help in the hungry days in the arena, but speed, strength, and skill didn't come with them.

"Eat something," he told her absent mindedly.

"Put away the damn notebook and listen," she retorted, crossing her arms. Lettie wasn't one to be told what to do.

He sighed.

"So I've been thinking. I'm from district three, right? Not exactly a career district, but better off than the others."

He set his notebook down. "Why does that matter. I'm telling you, you're better off in smaller numbers. And the careers are all action. They have no game plan. Trust me," he looked her in the eye, reading her like a book. "If you want to be part of the careers, then go."

She slammed her fist down on the table. "I think you're just trying to get rid of me, Misson. Aren't you!"

"No, that's not it at all," he assured. He had no way of explaining this feeling, this connection he felt to her.

She ignored him, continuing on with her rant. "I'm a threat to you, that's it! You want me alone, so at night you can kill me! You pig!"

"Lettie," he tried to calm her down.

"Fine, bitch. You know what, forget about it!" She stormed out of the room.

_What the hell…?_ He thought to himself. Misson didn't know what he'd done. He'd suspected she was one to have a temper. But what had he done to set it off? He suspected the games were taking a stressing toll on her, and she'd just cracked. He went with that conclusion, shaking his head, made his way to his room and crawled into bed.

Back in the illuminated cafeteria, Maya contemplated just sitting alone. She'd decided from the start what she'd wanted to do. And what she could do. She would bend the rules in the Hunger Games' history books. She would make an impression on every Capitol game watcher.

She supposed her parents she had to thank for that. Being from district seven and all, it was unheard of that a girl of that status would ever join up with the careers - not without skill of course.

Maya's parents were retired capitol officials, that had moved because they were sick of the Capitol. They were unique, and not entirely brainwashed. They'd trained Maya in fear that she would ever be reaped. Little did they know that she would volunteer for tribute, having a Capitol rule changing plan she wanted to execute. She knew she could win - her rebellious side whispered the dream in her ear. Maya would join the Careers.

Walking up in a jean skirt and red tank, she took a seat next to Richie. "I'm Maya. We'll be seeing a lot of each other."

Across the room, Mollie and Leah were huddled together, laughing. "Have you ever heard the fairytale about the princess?"

"Eh, they're not really my thing," Leah replied.

"Your culture, your family and stuff? Is it not um, dedicated to…" she giggled. "I can't talk today, gosh. But really, have you never heard of Cinderella?"

"Nah. I'm not one for kiddy stuff. I like feeling grown up, you know," she nudged her arm.

"Yeah. Nowadays, everyone has to," Mollie paused. "About the games…They're so close. I'm really worried, Lee," she put her head on Leah's shoulder. The pair had nicknames and inside jokes from the time they spent together. You'd think they had always been the best of friends.

"Four days," Leah whispered.

How the time had flown by. How close they were to the fate of their lives.

Cormac and Sissy sat together at the back of the cafateria. What an unlikely alliance - a _ year old guy, and an eighteen year old mother. But by talking it through, they'd learned they had a lot more in common than they'd expected.

Cormac was looking out for two little girls as his home life demanded. He was their provider, the one they would always rely on. More often than not, he'd realized they thought of him as their fatherly figure. It was something he'd laughed upon realizing with Sissy. Cormac never imagined himself to be a single father of two young girls as a teenager, but hey. Life is cruel, life rains on parades. But only after rain, can there be a rainbow. His motto, his way of thinking. Sissy agreed.

She was pregnant and had a little girl at home. She had a husband that would work and provide for her and her children. Sissy was undoubtedly a mother, and the two could relate.

"She's so wonderful," Sissy continued on about Lexi.

"Doesn't your district enforce the adult pregnancy rule? Ours does."

"But there's nothing they can do to stop me. And I kept a low profile, not going out into the district. That was always Harrisons job."

Cormac all of a sudden looked worried. "Sissy, are you ok?"

"I'm fine," she took inventory of her body. She felt normal. Did something look weird? Was her nose running. She checked with the back of her hand - nothing.

"It's just…you're speaking like everything you ever had with him, with your family is over. You're talking in past tense," he looked genuinely worried.

"Cormac," she smiled with her eyes of wisdom. "Because it is."

"Sissy, no."

She shook her head. She was much too nice to raise her voice and hated to argue.

"Sissy. Don't think like that," he said sternly, taking her arm with a look of passion in his eyes. He didn't know why, but he suddenly realized cared about her. She brought out the true him. Being with her, he was finding himself.

"Cormac, no. It's inevitable. I'm not fast or strong or smart. I'm not a career, I'm not outrageously beautiful, I don't know anybody higher up in the games. I'm not tied to anybody rich. Look at me. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to win the Games," a tear streaked down her face.

"Don't cry," he wiped it away without romance. "And don't doubt yourself," his mood was suddenly grim.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed, and sighed. "The nerves are getting to me."

"Let's change the subject," he suggested, seeing how the thought of being back home, and the thought of her death made her cry. He'd been avoiding those thoughts of his own, knowing it was what was keeping him tied together.

Leah was suddenly yawning, and she blinked away the tired sensation for the moment. "I'm going to bed. No sense in staying up late. We can talk all night in the arena," she winked. "Won't be able to sleep there anyways."

"Night!" Mollie called, gathering her food and planning to throw it away. She followed the path Leah had taken out of the winding tables and dumped her excess in the trash.

"Mollie," Blake grabbed her arm. She screamed, but caught her mouth with her hand in time.

"Wait," he didn't know what to say.

"I was thinking about what you said, Blake."

He swallowed, speechless in the presence of her.

She whispered. "And your right."

He gaped at her.

She led him around the corner where they could have more privacy. "About Ethan. He did save my life. I feel like I should explain what we have together to you, but in a way, I also feel like you already know. The thing is, do you understand?"

"Mollie, I'm not a creep. This is going to sound creepy. But I've watched you guys through the years…"

Her eyebrows shot up.

"No. I mean I know people. And from seeing you two, I know what's going on."

"I know that you're deluded to believe you think what's going on."

"I'm so confused."

"Look, I like you, ok?"

"Like…Like, like?"

"As in I have a crush on you and I'm not ashamed of it."

"Well, at least now I know you wont be the one to kill me in the arena," she smirked at him.

"I have a preposition," he took her hand.

"I'm not sure…"

"We could have an alliance. It'd be perfect. You and I."

"I promised Leah…And what do you have to offer?" she asked rhetorically.

"I see it in your eyes, that you like me too."

"I don't know think anymore Blake. I realized after thinking about it that I don't love Ethan. That what you said is right. But that doesn't mean I like you like that."

"But if I was right about Ethan," he suggested.

She sighed.

He kissed her cheek in a friendly way, and grinned. "Think about it?"

"Honestly," she called after him. "I'd be better off with you. But Leah doesn't like you," Mollie was beginning to be persuaded.

Blake walked back slowly. "Then leave her. Don't tell her. And we'll kill her first."

"She's my friend."

"There are no friendships in the arena. Only alliances or enemies," he stated coldly.

"Then I'll come with you," she smiled, not knowing what she'd thrown herself into, but knowing she liked it.

"Keep it a secret," he whispered. "And when the gong sounds, tell Leah you'll meet her due south. And follow me north."

"Something like that," she smiled, and retreated to her room where her dreams were ones of making it out alive.

The remaining tributes talking over the dinner tables were only the Careers. Today really only had been the existing day that determined them. That group always happened one way or another.

Two romances were sparked over the three hours they spent in the room. Claire and Ben had a relationship that stretched far back into the past. And Dray and Adonia - who both honestly believed they each were going to win.

Claire, Ben, Adonia, Dray, Maya, Aqua and Richie each had an extreme drive to win.

Adonia had trained her entire life for a chance like this. One of fame and fortune, one that would define her life of success. She could even be a mentor in the future. Adonia was dedicated to the games.

She spoke up. "So what's our strategy? In case we can't all meet again," she asked strategically.

"Who's fighting the cornucopia?" Aqua flirted. "Guys. You, Richie, you're strong, and capable of it."

"Of course I will," Richie smiled at her.

"Rich, my man. We don't know if we can or can't now here and all," Ben told him.

Dray looked at him questioningly, Adonia on his arm. Little did he know that she was simply using him. Wanting him to do everything for her and protect her so she would have better odds of winning. Unlike Claire and Ben, Adonia's relationship was purely strategic. Everything she did was for the games. She wanted to win, and she wanted it with her life.

"Richie, he's right. We should have a team captain of sorts," she smiled. "Because we all know we won't all agree once in the arena," she gestured with her hands.

"True," Aqua mused. Her flirting with Richie was purely strategic as well. Her and Adonia would get along, she could sense it.

As for Claire - she hated girls like that. They abused other people to get what they wanted. They were selfish and arrogant, and Claire despised the way they flipped their hated and giggled at everything. If they wanted true friends, this was not the place.

Maybe Claire would befriend Maya, she seemed alright. Claire thought about this. Surely she needed some others to back her up if they were separated. It sounded like a good idea, but they had more important things to worry about.

Maya pitched in. "I'm for a captain."

Murmurs of agreement were heard.

"So who's it gonna be?" Ben asked impatiently.

Aqua giggled. "Someone handsome and strong," she ran a finger down Richie's arm.

Claire and Maya exchanged glances and gagged.

"Who wants to be it?" Dray demonstrated by raising his hand.

He was accompanied by Ben, Adonia, Richie, and Maya.

"No offense, Maya babe, but maybe a _real _Career should be in charge."

Maya clenched a fist under the table, but kept her tone light. "Let's get things straight. Who actually has some outside training?"

Adonia and Richie piped up. "I do," they both spoke.

"The district one's," Claire laughed.

Richie looked at Adonia. "Sweets, I mean, I'm sure you're a great gal but I'm a gu-"

"Boys don't win every year," she raised her voice in volume, mad he could be so sexist. "And I don't want a sexist pig as _my _captain."

"Cool it!" Claire raised her eyebrows.

"Who's ok with Adonia as the leader of sorts?"

Everyone but Richie raised his hand. \

"Come on man," Dray said. "I'll spare you some food if we ever go hungry, or something."

"You can be the co-leader," Aqua giggled.

"Yeah, if she's dead, your next to the throne," Maya added.

"Just let her," Ben shrugged. "If she gets too bossy…"

Adonia hit his arm and he laughed.

"Whatever," he agreed.

Through the remaining hours before they were ushered to their rooms, they talked strategy and skills, who would be on look out, defense, and offense. Who was in charge of the food and the shifts so that they had everything planned. Everyone knew the plan would not go as they wanted it to, but it was flexible. They chatted up weapons and camouflage, who could climb, shoot, throw. Everything. They knew each other and who to toss the knife to when the going got rough.

This year they didn't have many bulky guys to defend their supplies, or some muscular girls to fend off whatever was coming their way. And this was a year of wits and brains.

_May the odds be forever in your favor._

**Hope you liked it, and if I didn't feature your character as much as another, you'll be featured more the games, I'll try! If anyone has any suggestions, ideas, or something they want changed, comment or message! Thanks!**


	10. Games 1

**Sorry for the slow updates lately! And thanks for all the supporting comments, it's the best feeling to read them and know everybody likes the story! Once this (The first Games Chapter) is out, I'll elaborate a lot more on every character. But this is the best part. Haha (Insert smiley face here). (And if I ever miss a tribute when I feature everybody, let me know. Or mistakes, spelling, characterization, it'll just make it all the better!) Thanks! **

Each of the tributes were stationed with their mentor in a small bunker under the arena. Of the 24 people, they'd been flown in on separate helicopters, simultaneously, and lowered underground. Twenty four hearts were beating, and twenty four palms were sweating. Twenty three tributes would face certain death within the course of up to a month. Only one would make it out alive. The survivor would be crowned the ultimate fighter. The victor, and have a house for their family and fortune for their district. Every tribute wanted to win. Because losing meant dying and shame on their families.

Each tribute was handed a pair of specially tailored, skin tight pants with an outer rubber coating that prevented the entrance of water. The same waterproof material covered a knee length coat. Under the coat was a cotton v neck, long sleeve, skin tight garment. Each tribute also wore boy short underwear. The females had a built in sports bra.

Beneath the shoes was a pair of the ever classic white cotton socks. And as for shoes. They appeared quite common like a simple tennis shoe with again, the same waterproof coating and blue shimmer the same as the rest of the outfit. They were built for running and climbing - something the game makers and tributes each expected to do.

Everything on the tributes was custom made - their hair was done up for either style or comfort and convenience.

Everyone knew it; This was it. All decisions were final now, as there was no backing out of a failed plan. Any mistakes and any hesitations would mean death.

A certain tribute - Maya - was sitting in her bunker, worried but planning to keep a game face. With the high definition cameras, any signs of worry would be picked up and spotted in a heartbeat. That would definitely limit the sponsors.

She reached for one of the many glasses of water stationed on the counter. She looked at her mentor and tried to force a smile. "I'm worried. But, I have a plan. And a question from you?"

"Yes?" He asked, knowing this may be the last time he talked to her.

"If I die, tell my parents the capitol has always been wrong."

His eyes widened and he tried to cover her mouth, but it was too late.

She stepped onto the platform, along with the other tributes.

And the plates began to raise.

*.*.*

Forty eight eyes began to take in the arena.

At first glance, it appeared like a normal landscape. But another look, more in depth, and one would realize it was just an illusion of the Games.

In front of the tributes was a heavily packed, dense forest. To their back was an ever expanding stretch of hills, coated in a flowing green prairie. There was a very distinct line between them, as if the entire arena was divided in two, as it was.

"10, 9, 8, 7," a voice boomed over an invisible speaker.

Sharp breaths were drawn. Where they stood was more or less an acre of heavy dirt. And the Cornucopia. A large golden horn that was packed with the necessities to survive. This year seemed to lack materials.

"6, 5,"

Lettie looked up and realized Misson was staring at her. Her face turned grave and she motioned with a stiff finger and a mean glare for him to wander in the opposite direction as her.

He looked down. She'd just given away her whereabouts. But she'd be extra guarded until he was dead. Maybe she'd be the one to kill him.

"4, 3, 2,"

The gong sounded with the final three seconds. On the third ring, they could leave. On the third ring, the Hunger Games began.

"One." _Brinngg_.

And the tributes were off.

Adonia was stationed closest to Aqua and Ben. The three began to run together. Adonia, knowing her strengths, picked up a sword. How lucky, she thought, that the weapon she was most talented with was now in her hands. Of course, many of them were of talents with it. But she needed to focus. With five attempts with it, she slashed two other opponents. They were smaller males that fell to the ground immediately.

A huge, bulging with muscle man was running straight for the supplies, along with a similar partner of strength - right where Adonia, Aqua, and Ben stood. He was from district four - a Career that failed to be included, and his friend was from seven.

"Here!" Ben yelled to her over the roar of feet. He was great with a sword as well, but she didn't give a damn.

"Not a chance!" She laughed, as she attempted to slash at the biggest one.

Aqua was a quick thinker and ducked out of the way, sprinting for the trident. She'd learned to excel with a sword _and _a trident - something had had apparently come in handy. She scooped it up and threw it with all her might. To her dismay, he dodged the weapon.

"Ah!" She shrieked, running to Dray, Maya, Claire and Richie for support.

Maya had ripped open a backpack where bow and arrows were hiding. "Yes!" She shouted, and launched one into the larger guy's back. He yelled, but it just propelled his fury.

Kat, Kanina, Scarlette, and Gretelda were all right inside the woods line, out of view but still vulnerable. They were speaking in hushed, quick tones.

"Into the woods," They agreed.

"We have no supplies! We wont make it without some. Someone has to go back," Kanina was crying a tear of fear.

"I'll do it," Kat stepped up.

"I'll come with you," Gretelda took her arm.

"No wait!" Scarlette shouted. "I'm the oldest-"

"We don't have time for this!" Kat screeched at her.

"If we wait any longer, the Careers will take possession of all the supplies. This is our only chance, while they're distracted. Got it?" Gretelda was yelling at Scarlette.

She nodded and shoved them. "Be careful!"

Was it the right decision? The four failed to possess any weapons, food, or supplies. Who knew what the temperatures and weather had to hold, or the abundance of possible food. They had to go.

Gretelda was a master at hand to hand combat, and Kat was nifty with any heavy, blunt object. The two of them planned to take out anybody in their way, Career or not.

The two sprinted for a large sleeping bag. Only ten yards away was another one. They manage to pick the two up, and continue deeper into the cornucopia.

Scattered by the woods were a few grey rocks. Kat took her chances by lunging for one. She ran with it and picked up speed, heading for the heart of the madness. She saw a whole backpack, probably filled with food and assorted materials. She suddenly had to have it. But the smaller of two huge guys stood in her way. Kat didn't care.

She ran at full speed, throwing the other sleeping bag at Gretelda and motioning for her to run back to the woods.

Kat sprinted for the man, and in a quick and skilled maneuver she planted her feet, swung her arms around her torso and hit the back smack dab in the middle of the back of his skull. He toppled over immediately, dropping the foot long serrated knife he was carrying. Grinning, Kat picked up the knife, the backpack in front of him, and some string she hadn't noticed all the while she stumbled to her knees to collect the things, Aqua was nearest her, and she lunged with the trident.

Gretelda saw it coming. She ran and tackled Aqua, throwing the trident out of her hands.

Aqua begged with her eyes, _no_, as Gretelda pinned her.

Gretelda wanted to kill her, but she didn't need any enemies. She started to play a little mind game she'd learned back home. On her little sister Olive - when Olive was being an outrageous brat - Gretelda would pin her and whisper a threat that she never planned on executing. Right now, it appeared that's exactly what she was doing. Gretelda might lose sponsors, but the Capitol's people would eat up the drama like it was served on a silver platter. "To kill, or not to kill?" Gretelda maniacally laughed.

"No, no please," Aqua cried, the tears disappearing off the back of her head against the hard packed earth.

Picking up the trident, Gretelda held it over Aqua's heart. She knew she'd have to make the drama short and sweet - someone on Aqua's side was bound to notice soon.

Gretelda looked at the strap Aqua had over her shoulder - filled with goodies of all sorts most likely. "Give the bag," she commanded. She felt her inner bitterness creeping out.

Aqua yanked at the strap, shaking, and trying not to make any sudden movements - or her heart would be pierced.

"You owe me," Gretelda hissed.

Aqua threw it at her, in which Gretelda yanked it out of her hands and ran with the trident, circling the woods to her posse waiting in the woods and noticed Kat had already returned.

Meanwhile, after the gong had sounded, Leah scanned the area for Mollie, but she had escaped with some fabric and a knife, and one other thing that she truly hoped for - poisoned darts.

Her and Blake were running through the thinner woods, planning to camp out a few miles from the Cornucopia so that they could steal any supplies as necessary for survival.

Leah was confused, then outraged as she saw the two disappear. Her small frame and fury propelled her to collect three separate knifes and a heavy duty blanket.

"MOLLIE!" She bellowed, making a pact to herself to kill the betraying devil. Leah followed the path they'd taken flight to, hoping for a fight to the bloody death.

Cormac and Sissy wanted to gather supplies, but appeared to come up empty handed. They'd escaped into thicker woods with occasional clearings. They ran for most of the afternoon, utterly exhausted.

"Cormac, wait, here!" She was breathing heavily. She'd been forced into labor five days before, and she hadn't fully recovered.

He turned and sat her down. "We should rest."

"I grabbed this," she held out a small bottle of water that she'd tucked in her sleeve. When she held it, he realized her arm was bleeding.

"What happened?" He asked, worriedly.

"I lunged for it. And someone got to me with a knife. I'm sorry, I knew it would slow us down," she started to cry.

"Don't cry. Here," he ripped off a portion of her jacket, and wrapped the wound.

They each took a drink of the bottle. "We've made it this far. We're in a thicket, and no one came in this direction. Let's settle down for the night, alright?"

"Do we have to go back?" she asked.

"I don't think we should. I have a plan for food," he slipped off his jacket, and tore off the bottom section.

"What was that for?"

"Tonight, I'll separate the fibers, and make it into rope. I'll set a little trap, and maybe we'll catch something," he smiled.

She lied down. "Can we sleep in shifts?"

"Yeah. Get some rest," he told her.

*.*.*

Six boys had died in the blood bath. Eighteen had survived.

*.*.*

Lettie ran to the woods. She doubted anybody had gone into the hills, it would be purely stupid. So she was extra guarded. She'd managed to collect a backpack, filled with a little tin cup, a pocket knife, and some canned vegetables.

The tin cup was perfect. A skill she'd mastered through the years was taking apart metal objects, and creating weapons. One thing she learned, was how to create a sort of gun. It could shoot long distances, little sharp pierces scraps of metal. But for that, she would need a few more metallic objects. She made a plan to look for tributes in the night, and steal as much as she could.

*.*.*

Misson saw Lettie's signal. But he didn't want to head for the hills. Honestly, who would? The Gamemakers probably realized that nobody did. _Wait, _he thought. _People there are scientists. Smartest of our generation - and they'd know everyone would want cover and the possibility of food and water. In the woods. So wouldn't that mean the opposite would be waiting?…_

He had a sudden hunch. So intense. And Lettie would expect he'd follow her. It was perfect. He had to escape to the hills.

He had managed to collect a briefcase and a sleeping bag - what an odd thing, a briefcase in the arena.

He'd stopped to look at it when the Cornucopia had disappeared from sight, and was pretty amazed. It held an array of knives - quite fancy in the felt that contained them - and at the side was a large box of crackers. A few a day and he would lose weight, but would at least feel relatively full compared to those with nothing. Besides, he needed to survey the area. If this gut feeling of his held true, then there had to be something here. Something…important.

He kept walking, trying to make as much time in the daylight as possible. It was hill after rolling green plush hill. No trees, no vegetation - beside the tall grasses - no nothing. For miles. But he had to keep pushing on.

One time, when he was young, his Dad would tell him stories about the way things used to be in North America. Three main countries - Canada, Mexico, and the place their grandparents lived once - the U.S. When his father visited, he'd traveled to every state, utterly amused by the environment and the different climates. The southern part, such as Florida, in December - the U.S.'s winter, was purely heat, mid 80's. But when he traveled north to Wisconsin, it appeared like the entire world was covered in a thick layer of white snow.

His Dad - Faraday - had told him that he fell in love with the snow, and with the hills. Along the entire length of the northern Mid-West U.S. were hills after hills. _The rolling hills of Wisconsin_, he recalled. Faraday had loved them so much, he'd stayed for entire year, just to witness the changing of the seasons. But the hills never lost their glory. He'd take joyrides through the countryside and climb the tallest of the land masses in order to see as many hills as he could in one view. It was glorious, as his father described.

Right now, the hills Misson gazed upon appeared quite like the ones his Dad had described.

Misson was overcome with a sense of nostalgia. If he were to be anywhere at this moment - and believe him, that's all he wanted - he would go back to the land his father fell in love with fifty years ago.

But maybe he could imagine. Yes, he could see it. The good ol' days of society's past. The days in which humans did not fight one another to the death for some other person's sick entertainment.


	11. Games 2

The sun was nearly setting, and Leah, granted her stubborn nature, refused to admit she was utterly lost. Taking advantage of her slender figure, she climbed as high in the trees as she could manage - but she couldn't see anything. Just thick forest to her left, and the hills much further to her right. There was no sign of Mollie - Leah cringed at the thought - or anyone for that matter.

She'd assumed the game makers would cover the lakes, ponds, rivers, etcetera from the air, as they always did. It was useless to observe in the trees any longer than necessary. But they also meant protection - there were seventeen other tributes up and willing to kill her on the ground.

Leah had no supplies, and nothing but her immense will power and extreme urge to kill Mollie. Leah wasn't scared of it; everybody else was. The area where her sponsors waited remained a desolate wasteland.

Leah climbed out of the tree and planted her feet amongst the dry brown dirt. It stirred as she walked along. The forest made no noise besides the _thump_ of her footprints, the beat of her heart. And there it was. The most subtle twig snap in the history of Leah's experiences of observing. But she was on edge. Anticipating this twig meant her sudden death, she dropped to the ground and began shuffling along. She heard no other noises. _This is stupid_, she thought to herself. What a coward she was being, hiding from the world. She would have to face death sometime anyways; it was inevitable. And she wouldn't be afraid when she did.

Yet, after a solid ten minutes of eerie solitude, Leah began to run in the direction of the heart of the forest. She'd find Mollie eventually.

Sissy Mallat had just woken from a disturbing dream.: Cormac was dead; everyone she knew in here was dead. And she was the last person living. She was the victor, but in her dream, winning was a twisted way of saying, "Congrads, you get to spend the rest of your life alone, but at least you're still living. " What an odd night.

A cold sweat had broke out of her forehead when Cormac shook her back to consciousness. "Sissy," he called her name. She'd fallen asleep a mere few hours ago, she could tell by the Sun's position in the sky. It was nearly sunset, but there was ample light for visuals and enough heat to keep a balanced temperature.

"Sorry to wake you up," he apologized.

"Don't be," she smiled. He couldn't help but stare at the cute little indents on her cheeks. He touched her long black hair, tucking it behind her ear.

She sighed and frowned, erasing that gorgeous sweet smile. She wanted to come right out and say what she truly felt, but it was harder than it seemed. Sissy was naturally shy and caring. The caring was good, but the shyness could put a damper on things in the long run.

"I haven't slept a whole day, have I?" she asked, trying to lighten the heavy mood.

"Not at all," Cormac's hand flew to the back of his neck. He continued. "I don't know if this is too much to ask you. I mean, you just had a baby and you have a pretty serious cut…"

"We need to get going," she agreed, half of her materials already packed up.

"Just a little further. Survey the land, check for any signs of water. And we want to be sure we're listening tonight. Let's see who's died, and who's still our competition, eh," he nudged her, and they laughed. Neither really meant it, but hey. If it meant sponsors.

Blake had been pacing back and forth for half an hour while the sun began to set.

"Someone might be watching us. We need to camouflage. Sleep in a tree, by the roots."

Blake scratched at his poison ivy swellings. "Damn plant," he cursed. "Look Mollie, did Ethan really love you? Or is it one of those controlling relationship kind of things? Where he deludes you into thinking you love him?"

A gust of wind escaped Mollie's mouth as she blew the strands of hair out of her face and avoided an answer. Odds were Ethan was watching right now, probably being interviewed after Blake mentioned him, and Mollie didn't want to admit the truth to him, and all of Panem as well. Truth was, though, she knew it would come to this. Accepting Blake's offer and running to the woods with him had it's negatives, which consisted of the unpleasant discussing of love and Ethan. Avoiding the subject further, she stressed their necessity to camouflage themselves. "We're so close to the Cornucopia. And whatever we risk, we're gambling our lives on it. So cover yourself with dirt."

Blake did as he was told, his face forming an expression of amusement as he observed Mollie settle into the base of a tree for the night. He copied her movements, snuggling right up beside her. "For warmth," he grinned, winking.

"Now tell me about Ethan," he whispered as night fell. So quietly that he could barely hear himself, he pressed his lips to her ear and added "The Capitol is watching. Make this a good answer for me _and_ them," he nodded sternly once, knowing she knew that he wanted the truth, but he most likely wasn't going to hear it.

Mollie swallowed. This was it. It was Ethan or Blake. Though technically she might never see Ethan again, she liked to believe there was a chance of her waking up tomorrow in his arms. She shook her head out of that daze. No matter what Blake thought, Mollie loved Ethan. But the Capitol didn't want to hear that, and she needed Blake on her side as well as the fact that he would much rather live a lie than die knowing the truth at this point.

"Ethan took me in a long while back. He cared for me, was always there for me and was always my best friend. Eventually we fell in love, always being together and relying on one another. His parents weren't really involved with us, and I'm sure this might be the first they're hearing of this. But I thought it was love. It was love. It _is_ love. And now I'm here, with you, and I don't know what to think," she turned to him, dramatically enough to suggest the lie.

He played along. "But now I've met you and every time I see your eyes my heart stops beating. And I think you two are only destined to be friends. Because deluded love is when you think you love someone only because they're nice to you. If me and him were compared, side by side, and you'd never met either of us before, who would you chose to spend the rest of your life with?" He smiled, as real as he could manage. A serious question had turned into a play on the Capitol's heartstrings.

This was the breaking point. Mollie had to remain truthful to herself now, or give into the capitol in hopes of making it out alive. "Oh Blake!" she threw her arms around him. She really had no other option, did she? "I'd pick you in a heartbeat, because I'd live and learn that you were kind and funny and sweet, and I'd realize this was true love!" She sounded overly happy. Mollie wondered what Ethan thought of this - did he realize it was all just a mind game?

They continued talking about their newly admitted love into the night. Moments before the cannon would sound, a parachute rained down, landing strategically between them. Blake opened it.

"It's some sort of cream?" He asked.

"It treats poison ivy!" Mollie grinned. _And that's how you work the Capitol_,she thought.

Into the night, their faces were blackened, but their voices carried on like songs straight from the souls of nature. On the contrary, their voices were also played on every television screen in the country. Little did the viewers know that all was fake. That the entire concept of the Hunger Games was a simple phony.

**I desperately appreciate the patience. I'm prone to waiting a few weeks, then updating a few times in the same week. You can always choose to not put up with me if I'm too much of a bother. I appreciate every one of your comments. They mean the world to me! Sorry this is kind of short. Note on my last chapter…: it was brought to my attention that I made a little mistake. I was talking about Misson's Dad who saw Wisconsin. I meant to say he visited the region current day that was recently Wisconsin, to give a general location. Sorry for any confusion. The Careers and the group of girls and other individuals will all be in the next chapter. Hope you liked it! Thanks for being super patient!**


	12. Games 3

Kanina was out of breath. "Can we stop!" She panted.

"Wuss," Gretelda teased, but stopped anyway.

"Keep moving," Kat commanded the group.

"Who made you in charge?" Scarlette sneered. Scarlette spent a lot of her free time at home with her little brother, a sweet little thing. She cherished him and was looking forward to a new sibling on the way, which permitted her a sense of parental authority. Maybe the power got to her head, this feeling of control she sensed, but she felt it was right. She was too family oriented to take any crap from a group of hormonal teenage girls. Was she wrong? They had vowed not to kill each other but any one of them could turn on one another in the night without warning.

It was a terrible thought. Who's idea was it to get together a group of jealous bickering girls, anyway?

Scarlette glared at Kat, who held up her hands in a faux sign of white flag surrender. Kat laughed. "Wow, what's got you glaring?"

Gretelda exchanged a glance with Kanina, who held the same anticigarette look in her bright eyes.

Gretta tried to lighten the mood by laughing and brushing everything off. Like dust off a shoulder by a sweeping hand, the tension in the hair dispersed for the desirable moment.

Kanina stepped in.

Her thoughts on everything were blurred, and she was confused. But here came that jovial sense to her features that gave her name a renowned acknowledgment. She wasn't happy? Did faking happiness earn you sponsors? The games were fake and they were all actors, but Kanina couldn't tell how well she was playing the part.

Surely the fight the girls almost got caught up in would cause their sponsors to deplete and the girls would have nothing left but themselves and the arena. It was a mutual nod of fake-alrightness that propelled the group forward, before it dawned on them that it was almost dusk. The woods they inhabited were casting shadows as a fisherman whipped his line into the unforgiving sea.

Gretelda was being simply herself. She almost had an alter ego, but both sides of her combined made her the unique single person she was. She was bubbly and fun one moment, but hostile when fighting. She could be deadly and scary. Her cousin Angela never failed to mention at one of her visits how Gretta was a klutz at that, when she was being happy.

How mixed and twisted human personalities and traits could become, she didn't know. She might never have a daughter to love and cherish, and she might never find out. Gretta loved anything that had to do with both fighting and her 'Lovely' personality, which guaranteed herself a higher ranking in the Games. But her personal image was simply a self reflection and a big ego would have nothing to offer her once the reality of the Games set in. It's effects would change Gretelda - for better or for worse? Either end of the spectrum would be magnified to a full extent considering this was Panem, and where they lived was unforgiving territory.

*.*.*

The sun had an hour before it set on Kat, Kanina, Gretelda, and Scarlette. They were toasting their hands on a muffled burning fire. They deluded the smoke and hid any signs of their whereabouts, a smart move, and well played.

It was a comfortable silence before Gretelda broke it. "Back home," she laughed, remembering, "They used to call me Grace." For a moment she forgot the entire country could be watching her.

"Why?" Scarlette mused. Maybe it was her middle name and she was simply making conversation.

"Well," she laughed. "I'm an admitted klutz, if I do say so myself. And also the aspect of 'Gracefulness' doesn't apply to me, unless I'm in this Zen sort of fighting state. Hence the name Grace. My friends used to make fun of me when I tripped over air," the group laughed along with her.

"Back home," Scarlette started. She didn't want to talk about her brother or soon to be sibling. She simply wanted to make conversation, to try and fill the void that was her heart. "I used to spend the longest time of anyone I've known mastering a pristine brown pony-tail. My hair is straight brown, and it looks terrible down! Don't get me started," She giggled. She hadn't been as shallow as she was in a long while.

"Oh my gosh. I always wear my hair in a bun. It has to be tight to my head like always. My hair looks _so_ bad down, too!" They talked together.

"I like mine down," Scarlette shrugged, causing laughter. The girls bonded and called each other pretty, reinforcing their alliance.

They talked hours, not realizing the capitol had done something to ensure an extremely long sunset and that Grace had upped and moved herself to the edge of their little bonfire.

She'd always secretly felt like the odd egg out, because she made analogies that involved eggs. But mainly because she was never really girly and the whole bubbly nice thing was all an act. Especially to cover up the klutziness and to ensure no one would ever know how she felt. It was a secret she didn't feel like sharing, and these strangers didn't deserve to know how she felt.

Grace wanted secrecy but friendship at that. But in an arena full of people who wanted you dead, she saw only one way out. Surveying the doors, she predicted what lie beyond each of them. And it was an exit that she took, not bothering with supplies or food or goodbyes. She simply walked away.

She hoped to come out of the arena alive with no regrets or mistakes. She wanted only the memory of herself being a strong and independent deep thinker, and these girls couldn't do her justice. She needed to do it. She needed to leave them.

*.*.*

The anthem played and the faces of the six dead guy's faces flashed across the screen projected in the sky. A mysterious force portrayed it, and an even bigger mystery brought on a storm of curiosity - how could they all hear and see it perfectly. Yet another mystery of the capitol, they supposed.

Adonia paced back and forth in the night. "Richie, you're on guard. Or patrol, or what not. Alright?"

"Who made you boss," Aqua pinched her nose in a way that didn't affect her cuteness.

"Don't question her authority," Dray sneered back at her, defending Adonia.

Aqua raised her eyebrows and stared at him all knowingly. She let out a little "Ooh," an and threw her head back in a mocking laughter.

"Quit it. I'll stand guard for an hour or so. Claire, Ben? You guys what's the plan?" Richie replied agitated. The group conversed.

The career's objective had always been to gather as many supplies as they could before anyone else to manage to scrape up an ounce of sustaining, useful, material. They were in a way selfish, but not so that it compared to the brutality of the games.

Supplies were an essential, and only a handful of them even knew the basics to surviving in the woods. They knew how to hunt and kill and that was where the knowledge ended. None of them knew what was right and wrong when one referred to what was meant to be.

Dray glanced up from his hands. He ripped open a packet of crackers and the crumbs exploded upon the packed dirt ground. Half the bag was lost in a sea of green weeds that surrounded his feet.

Adonia, next to him, got lost in his eyes. It was like they pulled the part of her that ever loved - the part of her soul - right out of her. They took everything good about her, every aspect of her life and hid them away behind the whites and the deep crystal blues. His hair shone in the light like a magnificent reflecting marble, and to her, it was perfectly polished to a king's approval. He was nothing other than perfect, and she fell in love.

More so she fell in love with the idea of love. These feelings had been building up inside of her for the longest time, bubbling and aching to be let free. His little mishap with the crackers would have had her screaming to conserve food, but not to him. Never to this perfect angel that had fallen from the sky.

She giggled. He took away every part of her that was a tough fighter. A smart player. This was the Hunger Games and against everything she believed in, everything she was taught.

She was taught to ignore the feelings, but she didn't even know what they were anymore. She liked _this_ feeling. Or maybe she loved it. As far as she could tell, she would go so far as to have it interfere with the games. Everything she was now revolved around the pit-of-your stomach feeling she felt. The adrenaline. It was a crazy emotion she'd only been warned about 1000 times but never associated it with the real thing. She didn't take the advice and didn't know what she was getting herself into.

Adonia reached for his hand and took it, causes two sets of faces to blush. The crackers remained on the floor as Dray raised his eyebrow.

Neither of them spoke to fill the awkward silence that was occurring. They glanced around and noticed they had an audience of four. Richie, Aqua, Ben and Claire each had a questioning expression on their face that varied with the person - not caring, a mocking expression, disgust, and acceptance.

Dray smiled and led Adonia half a mile before they stopped in a clearing in the trees.

"I wanted to talk to you in private," Dray began.

"Same," Adonia was about to do what she knew was right. She'd been taught to go by what she knew and not by what she felt. The Games were the most important thing here. To her family and the Game-makers she owed them. And to herself, she had to do this. Adonia couldn't get caught up in this stupid boy she had nothing with. She had to banish hope.

"You totally defended me before. Thanks, but I don't know if I feel the same way."

Dray scoffed teasingly with a smile. "You're going to tell me you're not head over heals for me?" He smirked again. He was kidding, but in a way he meant it. The two knew how such little actions could go a long obvious way in the arena.

"Are you saying you like _me?_" Adonia opposed.

He was quiet and looked away. "A little. If I didn't say it now I never would have."

When his piercing eyes bore into hers she melted. This was a new emotion she wasn't familiar with - same with Dray. He'd only once had a crush on a priss that just used him. He felt something real here.

Whether it was teenage hormones acting up or whether it was true love, the two leaned in for a lasting kiss. Dray moved his arms around her waist and pulled her in tighter. She wove her hands around his neck and tousled his hair. It'd been a long day, but this felt right.

Was this the truth? Was this not just some silly teenage hormonal mishap, and was this real? Adonia contemplated. Maybe there really were things in life more important than the Games.

*.*.*

She crashed before evening and it wasn't the deaths of the day that flashed before her eyelids. It was a vivid array of colors that danced in front of her, for her eyes only. Random pictures and shapes formed a mysterious unremembered dream. Maya remembered back to her district instead. Her story was unheard of not only in her district, but not heard of in the rest - or anywhere.

Her parents used to be Capitol officials back in their prime. It was the most spectacular thing - they upped and moved to district seven. Seven! They were all over the news and the 7th district was welcoming to the wealthy family and their fortune to help the community. They did much more than what was expected.

Maya was always an observer and noticed that most people in the Capitol were greedy and mean and selfish. They never left their beloved city and frowned upon the starving districts.

She soon realized her parents had come here for a reason and for a promise. They never would have left but had come to live with the land on their own, and with their kids. They wanted to raise Maya and her brother and sister to hate the Hunger Games.

Maya's grandparents had died in district seven. It was the rare vacation when they were in their eighties that they took Maya's dating parents to the Capitol by a monorail. That day went down in history. Their transportation crashed.

Her Grandparents were stuck in the flames and their son - Maya's Dad - heard them shout their last words. "The Capitol is a terrible place. Promise me you'll never get caught up in their lies!"

It took her Dad - Quil - and her Mom - Jadea - twenty years to figure out what they meant.

They were hospitalized in the Capitol and their profiles were screened. Jadea turned out to have amazing reflexes and her husband combat skills. They were recruited as officials, almost shoo-ins, and offered a home in the Capitol.

There they worked for fifteen years before one day, Quil looked in the mirror at his tattooed body and neon hair and wondered what he'd become. He'd dedicated his life to looks and lust. Not to love. His parent's words haunted him and that day they made up an elaborate lie and were transported back to disrict seven, where they raised a family.

Maya had figured all this out through old stories from people in their district, old typed articles, and the little knowledge she could bribe off her siblings.

When the truth dawned on her, she was beyond outraged. The entire day before the reaping she screeched, screamed, yelled, bellowed at her parents.

"How could you not tell me!" She thundered after another ten minute rant.

"We don't like to talk about what we've become. Or what we were," they weren't getting through to her, and that wasn't enough for Maya. "We just want you to know how terrible we were. And we never want you to become that way."

"How couldn't you let me know! You lived in the capitol! You were one of them! And you expect me to just be a district seven loser?! No Way!" She was crying tears of anger and pain. She stormed out of the room.

Little did her parents know, the next and last time they saw them was after she volunteered for the Games.

Maya, right now, was regretting it immensely. She was always so rebellious, and her life seemed so boring. She thought she could be the victor and prove her parents wrong. But this was so hard. She was alone day and night with no one by her side. And if she didn't take the offense, she would be killed. She had no defense.

Was it the right choice? Were the Games ever?

Maya woke with a start and noted it was midnight by the position of the moon.

She was in no way getting back to sleep. The nerves were getting to her. From her dream she concluded some force was telling her to take the offense. Truly, she couldn't camp out here forever. She had minimal food and supplies, stealing would be rough, and she was out of other ideas. Better to eliminate the competition before they eliminated you.

She started to head in the direction of a very specific group of girls - whose numbers were dwindling, though Maya didn't know where she was heading. She had her bow and arrows, in which she was skilled with, along with nothing but a meek motivation.

**This is relatively longish. So hey, I've been across the country with my family for a while and I just got backed. I'm traveled out and exhausted, I fell asleep while eating breakfast, but I desperately wanted to write.**

**I feel so terrible about not updating and I know I hate it when people don't update for extended periods of time. (The trip was fun but my hotel had no wi-fi and I couldn't bring my laptop and I had no access to a computer. Our days were booked and when I tried to scribble some of the plot down with pen and paper I fell asleep.) But enough about me. I'm so sorry guys! **

**I've got the plot all figured out now. Every twist and turned has been decided. I know the winner. The runner up. The third place Champ. Wink wink. Stay tuned…**

**Trying my hardest to update. I feel bad. I worked for a while on this and I hope everyone liked it. Feel free to ask questions, point out mistakes and I really would love constructive criticism! Improves my writing!**

**PS: Deaths in the next chapter. I know I said this would be all action but now I've set everything up just right. Prepare for adventure, action, and twists you didn't see coming?**

**I'm just curious, ****any predictions?**


	13. Games 4

**I've got this thing. I like to **_**know**_**, and to discover. So when I know the plot…I've got trouble finishing. But rest assured, I've never quit a thing in my life. And I don't plan on quitting now. Sorry for the late update.**

Kanina woke to an early morning light, but something was odd about it. The Capitol would most likely manipulate them in every way possible; somehow Kanina was determined to ignore the manipulations.

She reached to wake Scarlette first. The two girls had a deeper friendship going on than Gretelda or Kat to either of the two of them. They bonded and had shared everything with each other, and planned on being the final two - though neither of them mentioned that not both could live on.

Scarlette woke with a start, and a scream, which woke Kat. Kat's arm flew out to her left, searching for a no longer present Gretelda.

Kanina giggle. "Sorry," she smirked. "Didn't mean to scare you guys. I didn't know all three of you were scaredey ca-" She stopped suddenly, her eyes going wide and her breathing accelerating.

"I thought I saw something," she hissed between her teeth, then backtracked. "Where's Grace?"

"Grace!" Kat called, receiving a hiss from Kanina.

"_What?_" Scarlette asked. "We need to find her."

"She might have wanted to leave," Kat informed her. "Be quiet."

"And if she was taken prisoner? Or killed?" Ignoring the latter of the comments, a tear streaked down Scarlette's face. When the sniffles amounted to a greater noise, she was silenced by Kanina.

"We can't worry about her now. And besides, we'll find out tonight if she's dead or not. I sure as hell didn't hear a cannon."

"Still," Scarlette muffled the sobs.

"I'm a light sleeper. I would've," she reassured her. In all honesty, Kanina couldn't care less if Grace had died. It was obvious no one would have taken Grace alone and left the three of them. Unless some crazed serial killer was on the loose in the arena, picking them off one by one.

A realization hit. They, in one way or another, were technically serial killers themselves. Kat had killed a twelve year old boy in the blood bath, and a grown teen along with the kid. She would qualify. They all would. These games were sick.

"I've got a twisted feeling about staying here," Kat received involuntary goosebumps. The rays of the morning light were affecting them all. "Let's get a move on. Weapons poised," she instructed.

Scarlette and Kanina exchanged a _who made her in charge glance_ but kept it quiet.

*.*.*

Sissy hummed an old song she used to sing as a kid to herself as she scrubbed the dirt out of her pants.

"No use," Cormac walked up behind her, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "It's not coming out," he smiled.

"I'm still going to try," she informed him. "I've got nothing else to do. I'm useless here," she frowned, trying to hide her emotions. She felt like she was being watched. She was probably on camera right now.

His eyes widened at the remark. "You're not _useless_!" He retorted.

She raised her eyebrows.

He decided to change the subject. "You're so motherly, the way you do everything. The way you work with your hands and hum to yourself and seem deep in thought. It's beautiful," he assured her.

"Beautiful…" she mused. Her husband had never referred to her as anything more than a pretty face to kiss. Nothing more than "a housewife…" He was never mean, never nice. Never memorable. He wouldn't be remembered after she died. She started to think about her kids then stopped. The memory was too painful.

Though she smiled at the compliment, nothing romantic went on between her and Cormac. She would refer to him as beautiful as well. She might even risk her own life for his. What she failed to realize was that that was purest, most beautiful kind of love. And she'd never realize it.

He kissed her cheek. "Yes, beautiful. You hungry yet?"

She wondered if he was being rhetorical. They were all hungry. Sissy turned to see him smiling.

"I'll set a snare and some rope traps. I learned how to make a special kind back home," he grinned, proud. "They're actually easier to catch prey in - they're hidden under collections of leaves and are near impossible to spot. The moment an animal steps foot on it, the rope snaps and the prey is turned upside down, almost…" He stopped.

"Then what happens?" Sissy was curious.

"It's cruel. Gory. The animal gets squished in half…" he cringed. "Don't go anywhere near where I'm going. I'll take a careful route back."

"Return soon, then," she smiled slightly.

He handed her a knife. "Defend yourself as necessary."

Sissy swallowed hard. She hadn't mastered a single weapon and was terrified to be alone. She was terrified to admit it. "Ok," she managed.

Cormac saw the fear in her eyes but took no action. Instead he left for the woods.

Sissy didn't hum anymore. She was dead silent, listening for a subtle snapping of a twig or the breath indicating the approach of an intruder.

*.*.*

Blake and Mollie had shivered through the night together and were packing their stuff up in the early morning. Something didn't feel right.

Blake protectively put his arm around Mollie and whispered "We should get moving," to her ear.

She glanced at him, and he kissed her. Her eyes widened and she looked away stunned.

From the bushes, that was enough to outrage Leah.

She sprung silently, and like a slow motion movie, she jumped into the air. Her posture was perfect, her mouth was opening at a slowed rate as Mollie and Blake shared the romance. But it wouldn't last. Leah wouldn't let.

She held a knife in her hand and as the speed of the film gained momentum, Leah came down on the back of Mollie.

Mollie screamed but it was too late. The dagger had penetrated Mollie's skin and the blood oozed from the new wound. Mollie strained her voice as the deafening sound echoed through the arena. Her upper back had received the knife - it sunk straight to her heart, creating a near instant death.

In the split second she felt a force behind her, Mollie thought back to her home life. She sent a prayer to her Mom and Dad, who were long dead and thanked the Lord they wouldn't know her life ended like this. She thought back to Ethan and subconsciously called his name. "Ethan!" was her cry. Her final words. They weren't "Blake!" For help, for reassurance she loved him or because it was the least she could do. They were Ethan.

Maybe it was true, people fall in love with their saviors. Patients fall in love with their nurses and many people love Jesus - one of our saviors. So is something telling us that's the real love?

Maybe Mollie knew, or maybe she was wrong. But

"Who's the backstabber now?" Leah sneered, mostly for the cameras.

Blake cried a tear of anger and loss as he launched himself at Leah. His hands scraped across her neck and his nails dug into the soft tan skin of her face.

Leah "Puta!" She bellowed in Spanish at the pain.

Blake glared at her. He was too upset for words. Everything he stood for led to this. This could be his life or death and he preferred it not to be the latter.

"Ella…She was _mine_!" Leah hissed in an accent Blake didn't recognize as she pinned him to the ground with a _thud_ and a _crack_.

"You…can't…own…" he started then stopped. She was cutting off his air. He lunged for the knife in her hand and grasped it in his own.

Blake didn't know where he got the power from, or how he managed the next seconds of his life. But he did know that this girl was relentless, and he planned to get his revenge. He loved Mollie. Leah would die.,

Blake pinned the girl to the ground and dug the knife she had deep into her scalp. Leah cried out in agony and Blake nearly stopped at the shrill sound escaping her lips. Nobody deserved this.

He thought back to her parents at home, and her siblings and friends and romantic life. She could've had a family and an education and fame and fortune and happiness and a peaceful death. But this death wouldn't be peaceful.

He dragged the knife across her forehead and she started to cry, muttering words in Spanish he wished he didn't understand. "Madre y padre lo siento, te amo, y Sarah, y Chris," she mumbled on in hysterics. Blake cringed and looked away.

He slammed the knife into her heart and her words were morphed into her final goodbyes.

The strange thing for Blake was this: he expected a feeling of relief, or background music to his life after the anticipation had worn off and his target was dead.

But there was nothing. The meek silence the atmosphere gifted him made him want to die as well. He felt guilt and sorrow. He felt nothing but bitter hate for the Gamemakers.

Slowly, scared all the while, he took the food and weapons off of Mollie and delicately brushed her cheek.

Two cannons sounded.

He took the clothes off Leah but left Mollie's to gift her some decency.

Slowly, very slowly, he back away. He was alone now.

*.*.*

Maya streaked through the forest like there was nothing to it. On her way to a very specific group of girls…in all too close proximity to them without even realizing it was Sissy.

Maya emerged on the clearing where Sissy stood, her back to a tree and her breathing uneven. She must of anticipated this.

Maya's offensive pla must have lead her to this - she drew a weapon (bow and arrow) and aimed for Sissy's core.

Sissy wouldn't have it. She left all their supplies and darted to the right, then left, swerving through the forest. She wasn't thinking right.

"Cormac! Cormac!" She was bawling, running and screaming for her life.

Maya was right on her tail. It might have been a wise decision to stay back and gather all the supplies she could, but no. Everyone was playing the game on instinct.

"Sissy!" A returned call was heard from somewhere distant. He didn't dare announce his whereabouts or whether he was coming for her, but she knew he was.

In the blink of an eye, against all odds, it happened.

An ankle of one of the runner's was snagged and her body was twisted and mangled by the trap set for smaller animals.

The girl's body was sliced by the rope, like the rope was some sort of metal. Limb by limb the girl's body fell to the ground.

Maya. Maya saw the trap, saw Sissy's life end, and ran.

Sissy had no time to think of her husband, and children. She had no time to imagine anything but the excruciating pain the rope brought, and the one who had caused this. The one who she had found a true sense of love with was dead to her now, because she was dead to him. Fair is fair in love and war. Love because of him, war because of the games. Games that shouldn't exist now.

*.*.*

Cormac heard the cannon and didn't need to guess at what had happened. He knew. The trap. He warned her and shouldn't of set it. It was all too perfect, really. That she would be the one to trigger it after he had warned her but hey, these were the Games right?

Wrong. A tear streaked down his cheek. He avoided the trap and didn't even bother to collect the rope or her supplies. Or even be aware of the intruder she'd been running form. He didn't want to face it. Not here, not ever.

Why now, should death have to be inevitable.

**Apologies for the late update, short chapter, and lack of description.**

**Constructive critisism please! Tell me what you thought, though I'm sure this wasn't all too shmansy but I'm glad I got this update out.**

**And predictions?**

**Betcha didn't see this chapter coming. (*Attempts to wink and dies trying)**


	14. Games 5

Despite everything - the pressure of the Games, the anticipation of what was to come, and the superfluous necessity to survive - Misson was somehow tranquil. It was around noon, or felt as if it was. The game makers controlled everything nowadays - it could be midnight in the same time zone somewhere else. Everything for Misson was an expected illusion. But that didn't stop him from putting it all aside and believing it.

The temperature wouldn't kill anyone - it was seventy-degrees-Fahrenheit-feeling weather, with a slight breeze and no clouds. Like a day out of a fairytale. But that's what the game makers wanted. Everything seems so perfect, you let your guard down. And suddenly BAM you're shot to death with an arrow. Sick as it is, it's the truth.

Misson ran his hand over the too green grass beneath his fingers as he lay on the sloped upper portion of a hill. It was the ideal beauty of the natural world. These ups and downs of life were stories, told by the land. He could see for miles, the expanse of this grassy prairie overwhelming his ability to think. Why hadn't he gone to the woods. He was obviously exposed by anyone peering over the opposite side of a hill. Or maybe someone had gotten hold of a pair of binoculars - he'd be dead in a heartbeat. Actually, quite possibly maybe, this grass had unscented narcotics built in to their genetic stances, causing him to lose his focus and relax.

Whatever the cause, he let his mind run wild. The terrible murders weren't anywhere near here, so why worry? And besides, the game makers would definitely let him know if it was time for a battle. It was a new state of mind for him. He liked it.

Out here, he was living like Games royalty. Only half starving to death. It had rained in the middle on the first night, when most everyone was asleep under some sort of cover. He'd been close enough to the forest back then to clearly see it hadn't rained there. It was a twisted blessing - the rain in the hills. There was so much of it that it caused mud slides and these white river rapids down in the crevasses between the hills. There was almost no way he could cross them.

He was stranded on the same hill for two days before the game makers realized he'd gathered enough water for a week's worth of living. When Mission had stitched his jacket into a garbage bag size carrier - water tight - and filled it up, he saw the water level all of a sudden drop four feet and sink into the grass instantly.

No one had paid him enough attention to realize he'd been stitching it in the first place.

Inside his head was a paradise of escape. He laid on the hill, introspection abundant, thinking about nothing in particular. Except maybe the Game-makers motives, and how he could find some food. Misson accepted he wouldn't win. He couldn't. He told himself he was powerful enough to do so, but there was this drive inside of him, a good guy trying to make his life matter.

He'd been thrown into this arena of death, with these people congratulating him for a job well done, and how lucky he was. They would all kill to drop eighteen years and have their fifteen minutes of fame - even if it meant death.

But Misson wanted to die here, fifteen minutes of fame or not. But he also wanted to do something worth paying a life for. He wanted to make his final moments count.

He mind wandered there and back, random images of childhood clouding his mind. Every now and then a stray tear escaped without warning. But everyone was crying by now. It didn't matter. Misson would die, something worth his life.

He would die for some_one_. The moment he let his competition back into view, Lettie was the only thing he could think about. He thought about her sense of extreme sarcasm and how she would've been the perfect spokesperson for women's rights back when the Americas still existed. How her personality rang with independence. And how he should not have fantasized about her for that afternoon instead of looking for food.

He'd never known this emotion before. It was a want, but his heart hurt so much for it, it felt like he couldn't go on without it. Like he _needed _this. But what was it. Suddenly he pictured her in her arms. He pictured a future ahead of them with three little children - two girls, with her same big eyes and a little boy with her personality. Themselves combined in each other night after night, and before that - his winding hand reaching down and caressing her face, his lips reaching hers and -

There was a cannon shot in the background. He suddenly realized it was late in the evening, and he'd fallen asleep. Misson cursed himself for wasting the precious daylight.

IT only took a split second to return to that fuzzy stage with Lettie. What was this - and why had he asked her to alliance him anyways.

He hadn't realized the attraction at the time. But now he realized it. He did. He'd never experienced it before, and had certainly had crushed on other chicas, but this was different entirely. This had to be. This was love.

*.*.*

Lettie scratched at the eclectic collection of bug bites and plant allergies that have manifested on her skin. She marveled at the fact that on top of the fear of dying, and having to strive for food and all, they had to throw in mosquitoes and poison ivy.

Lettie had spent eight hours the previous day trying to perfect the aim of a spear she'd acquired - she'd obviously made a mark in the tree the first time from around ten feet. The closest she'd got to hitting the same mark was the last shot in that time frame, three inches to the right. She wasn't particularly gifted in that sport, but it was the only weapon she had as of now. And from training, it was one of the only weapons she'd remembered the technique for. And the best spots to aim for. Besides, if she got close enough to someone, she could produce the power to stab someone. It was like a big knife.

And that's exactly what she planned to do. Take out someone she didn't care for and lesson the competition. Go for the gold. Plan to win. Take the offensive.

But who? She'd seen evidence of someone's whereabouts nearby - there was a hushed laughter that echoed with the wind, and half an attempted-to-be-covered-up footprint in the soft dirt. It looked masculine. Like the tip of a shoe - but it was wider than any of hers. So a guy for sure. She gasped. If it was Misson, she couldn't do it. She didn't know what it was about him.

It was stupid, wasting time meant for deducting a plan on him. Damn Misson. When he asked her to work with him, she felt a spark. When his hand brushed hers and his voice lingered in their close proximity, she felt it. When he smiled after making a joke back in training, he would look in her direction to possibly wonder if she thought he was funny.

But what did she think of everything? Suddenly Lettie realized that she'd been imagining a lot of what she assumed - but did that mean that her imagination was running wild with images she hoped real? Did she _want _this.

Distraction from the now was the last thing on her mind at the moment. She needed to figure this out. Why was even thinking of him so much? She was sure he didn't think of her. He'd come to the woods, or maybe escaped somewhere else, and only focused his all too intelligent mind on surviving, she was sure of it. Wasn't she?

Lettie had a headache resulting from dehydration. There hadn't been a sprinkle of rain recently, which was strange. She could've sworn she heard a distant thunder recently. But yet again, she was most likely half asleep and imagining good things.

Did that mean she imagined what she wanted? Did she like Misson? She _can't_ like Misson, she just can't. She repetitively installed this inevitable lie in her head until she realized she could die any moment. Really realized. And she didn't want to die a liar. What she really wanted was a kiss and a hug, and him tucking her into bed as she drifted off into a distant slumber that she would never return from. She wanted him to win and marry a girl much better than her and live a happy full life.

But to do that, she needed to find him. She needed him to win if she couldn't. And seeing the competition, she obviously wouldn't.

It dawned on her. There were plenty of other guys, but none with as big of feet as that footprint. Except one. Richie.

Which meant the Careers were nearby.

The sun set as Lettie devised a plan. She sharpened her spear with a rock and took a few more practice swings. She had a little nap-sack full of goodies and a supply of water that wouldn't last her more than tomorrow.

When the moon was at it's brightest, Lettie got up from the dirt packed ground and brushed herself off. She inhaled and exhaled and slowed her breathing. She practiced silent footsteps and surveyed the area for any escape from deathly exposure. She was ready. This would be her first real kill.

She didn't know the Career's whereabouts exactly, but there were signs too obvious to miss. They were uncaringly forgotten about. Had the group of what - seven, six? - Careers forgotten there were many, many more of them. And that maybe, just maybe, one of them might not win?

The footsteps, the noise, the lack of camouflage. And the area in which Lettie's shoe had punctured something foul - human fecies. Right on the ground, plain to see! Not buried or scattered, or under a pile of debris.

Lettie couldn't stand the stupidity. Some of the Careers, to her, had real potential of making it. But their lesser alliances had given them all away.

It was midnight, and Lettie's lips had turned blue from the cold. But she did still have all of her clothes, and had her hands stuck in her drawstring backpack. She would have to rough this one out.

It couldn't have been more than an hour of walking before a strong smell caught Lettie's attention. She knew it was the Careers right away, and was grateful they hadn't stumbled upon her earlier. From a distance, she was relatively unable to defend herself.

The smell? She could put a name to it. There were these specific leaves they'd learned about - leaves from a bush that was rare to find. They had this specific, undeniable smell, and an amazing characteristic. They were genetically engineered so that when burned, they put off a strong smoke filled smell, intense heat, but no light. Perfect for a nighttime fire.

Only would someone close enough as Lettie be able to register their whereabouts. And she had.

Her heart started pounding, faster with every step. She inched her way there, a slow sensation building in her stomach.

She was a good yard away from the little clearing they inhabited now. She blended in to the blackness behind her. Slowly she sank to her stomach, and army crawled to the edge of their fort. Richie was slumped against a tree, their apparent look out. The nerve of some people. Their lives were unknowingly at stake and he'd risked them because he was tired?

Regardless, Lettie was closest to Adonia, who was curled up with Claire. Ben and Dray slept a few feet to the right of them, and Aqua - Aqua was - !

Lettie gasped, and managed to cover her mouth before she let out a scream. Aqua was mere feet to her left, a large knife in her hand and a menacing look of concentration that rang in her features. Wide awake. Seemingly aware.

Lettie knew it would have to be Aqua that would die. Otherwise she'd die herself, going for someone else. Aqua would kill Lettie in a heartbeat.

Now one thing, that Lettie observed but Aqua failed to realize - their 'lookout' had her back to a tree. Maybe Aqua thought it was protection from one side, but Lettie saw it as something else.

It was a clear and easy path to maneuver into, out of Aqua's field of vision. It must've taken Lettie half an hour to move the three feet on her stomach to a position behind the tree. But it felt like an eternity.

Once she was behind Aqua, Lettie prepared a plan. Quick thinking. She would get up, move around the tree, and stab the spear into Aqua's heart. But what if she screamed? Lettie would be dead from the other's weapons. Well now, Lettie had made it this far. She would just have to run.

The dark of the night covered her movements. She made sure she covered the noises. And she did it. She raised the spear, moved around the tree, and well Aqua's large blue eyes met Lettie's in the darkness, she had no time to even fear.

Aqua was dead.

There was no scream, no struggle. Just the blood poured onto the ground, and a limp body collapsing into the puddle.

But if the thud didn't wake them, the soon cannon ball shot would. Lettie ran in the opposite direction she came, hopefully, maybe, looking for an escape.

She'd never felt so free, running through forest at night. Yet, she never felt so evil. Killing an innocent soul under the cover of the natural blackness.


	15. Games 6

**Here's a short chapter. Apologies for the long wait. Review and give me your opinion. A little birdie keeps telling me that short chapters sooner are better than long chapters longer. I guess they're right. Here you are:**

The careers woke early in the morning to an anticipated bright-and-early sunrise concocted in the first games. It signaled night was done, and a new challenged had arrived. But more so, everyone knew it's real purpose. The sunrise in the games was simultaneous to the sunrise in the Capitol. It was always about the Capitol.

This way, the early birds in the luxury zone would be able to flip on their sunshiny television and have a big bowl of child's death for breakfast. Perfect, wasn't it.

Claire rose bright and early, blinded by the rays cast into her line of view. She blinked twice and glanced around their huddle, in the small clear-out they inhabited for the night. Pacing, she realized her steps were hard to take and her shoes were glued to the ground.

"Oh, there's something sticky," she groaned. Looking down, the blood on the ground was unmistakable, large quantities puddling around her feet. She screamed.

Richie jolted awake and slammed his head into the bark of the tree he rested against.

"Who's fucking watch was it?" Adonia hissed, rushing to the seen, dazed by the morning glow and the eerie presence the scene gifted.

"Hers," Ben pointed, patting her arms. The small bodied blonde with the large hair, now a retched shade of crisp pink, laid with her eyes open and and her mouth bubbling blood as some air escaped her system.

"We got that jackass," Dray intervened, awakened by the arguing and taking in the heavy atmosphere. Attempting to loosen things up, knowing the folks at home were watching, he pulled out a knife, attempting to 'cut the tension'. They could use some cheering up by the sponsors right now.

Claire giggled from across the small area they resided in. She knew she shouldn't be happy in a time like this, especially under the particular day's circumstances, but she just couldn't help it. It was evident in the first place that she hated Aqua, that much was for sure, and she really didn't feel like grieving over a death she wanted to cause in the first place.

Adonia and Ben stood near each other, close to Dray and Claire. The group turned when a muted sniffled escaped Richie's lips. His deep coffee skin was tear stained and he held a knife up to his wrist.

"No!" Adonia shouted, suddenly fearing for someone other than herself. She thought back home to her district, where her family waited for the prize of her returning. The least she could give them was a winner from her district. Richie had to be kept alive, considering he was the male from district one with her.

Wasn't that selfish though? Adonia thinking only of herself? No, she told herself. No, it's for my family. And my district. We can't let all our dignity and pride go.

Hoping to woo some sponsors to whip up a mental stabilizing potion for this kid, she knelt down with an academy award winning speech.

"Richie, I know it's hard, and I know you're tired and hungry. It's rough out here. But all but one of us is going to perish, love." She whispered in his ear, turning him on immensely. "But I hope to God it's you. You and I…nobody can feel the chemistry we have together. If you're going to die, you're hurting me as well. Now do you want to do that?" She bent over slightly, letting him catch glimpse of her body.

The four people behind them starting packing their things. It was customary to clear the ears before the body was evacuated. Not leaving Aqua with any dignity, the boys stripped her of her clothes, loading them in the bag.

"Shame, nice body," Dray joked, trying to get some laughs out of the folks back home. It was hard though, with a naked dead body.

Claire was momentarily disgusted, then realized what an act it was. There was no way anyone could find the bloated body attractive.

Richie responded to Adonia for a second. "You feel for me…too?" He wasn't acting.

Right then she decided he would need to go, and soon. Screw the district. But as of now, she needed him to guard her, to have her back. "Yeah, but let's keep it a secret," she winked, looking back at Dray and rolling her eyes.

*.*.*

A small little boy and his three teenaged sisters in the capitol sat around the gigantic screen in their home, watching the updates as they came along. A strange man in a blue suit narrated and commented on the Games as they played out. "Ye-hess folks! It looks like some drama is unfolding with this group. Will Adonia betray Dray for Richie? Or will she stick to her first true lover?"

The children scoffed.

"Oh God," one of the girls yelled.

"You stupid bitch!" The other threw a marble vase at the screen, cracking the glass.

The third one had a tear down her cheek, as the young boy watched it all play out.

Their powerful father walked in and saw the whole event unfold. "Ladies, calm down. Pricinellina, this is the third T.V. this month! Good, I wanted the new model. Anyhoo, girls, how can I help! I just _hate _seeing you in pain!" He put a hand over his heart and pretended to faint.

"This group is splitting up! Make it stop daddy!" She cried.

"I'll see what I can do," he retorted, business mode on, and left the building, planning to head to the Games headquarters. Something wasn't right, he could sense it. A lower class district had killed a Career member, and the Capitol needed to set things right.

*.*.*

Unchanged, the group made their way through the forest.

"Who do you think got at her?" Claire questioned.

"This isn't a game you know," Richie told her.

"What, you liked that whining airhead?"

Adonia stopped. The whole group followed her lead. "Claire, you seem very sketchy about this whole incident. You didn't…..oh my GOD!"

"No! No it wasn't me! I swear, I would never!"

Richie swung at her face. "You animal."

"No, stop!" Claire pleaded.

"God, killing your own kind," Dray sneered. Ben laughed behind him, both looking as intimidating as ever.

Ben walked over and put a hand on his newly found lover's shoulder. "Look. Guys. She has motives but no intentions. You have to believe this," he sided with her, going for the Capitol's love, a romance approach.

"I did _not_," Claire pouted.

"Guys -" Ben's voice boomed as a large cascading ball of fire crashed to their feet.

*.*.*

"This shouldn't happen. That Lettie girl is way out of line."

"No, leave her," the lawyer argued.

"No!" Another Games maker countered. "We have a demographic of very young girls this year. It's the romantic aspects that are hurting us!"

"No, no, no! That [Career] group is what's causing the ratings to drop," the layer argued again. His persuasive techniques won the case. "Now think fast. Sabotage them. Those kids know what we want, and they'll act for us. It's common sense," the man was bold, and his argument passed.

*.*.*

The Careers ran from the flaming balls of fire that fell to their feet. They'd seen these before. They were deadly, and aimed precisely by the game makers…somewhere, for some reason, someone was very angry. And in this case, it was at them.

Dray and Adonia ran hand in hand. Maybe for once, this approach could save them.

Richie ran behind, feeling smug because he knew the 'truth' about her feelings, which was in fact a lie.

Suddenly a flame erupted between them. It angled back on Richie, and he knew he needed help to escape - but it was too late.

"Adonia!" He pleaded. "Please! If you really love me and weren't just using me for the sake of winning the Games, being fake and making your rating go up then save me!" He suddenly realized that epiphany.

Whether she saved him or not, it was pointless. He'd already given her away. "That asshole," she screeched under her breath, bashing him in with a rock and escaping the fire of the moment.

A cannon shot. Richie was dead.

Adonia coughed in the smoke and searched for Dray, who was nowhere to be found.

Meanwhile Dray, Ben, and Claire had met up and were running away.

Adonia was searching for her guy, when a streaming ball of light hit her right arm. The whole thing seared off suddenly. She was terrified, and screamed, pools of blood forming around her. She didn't know if it was her delusional imagination or not, but the fire seemed to diminish as if the Capitol was apologizing for their huge mistake,

"Help!" She cried, but it was useless. She lay there, a wreck in her own blood, trying not to cry out too much in fear that someone she didn't trust would do her in.

Claire and Ben heard the cannon, thinking it was Adonia's when in reality it was Richie's. Dray heard nothing, catching up with them.

The couple looked at each other and frowned. They had decisions to make.


End file.
